Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21386 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21386 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
I suppose the seed had been planted that night. And since then, I'd been nurturing it with filthy daydreams, and fantasies, and stolen sideways glances at the panty-meltingly gorgeous, gruff, completely off limits man who’d entered my world with a bang.
I’d been lusting over Channing since the first day I met him. But after that time watching him stroke his cock? Well, after that it was like someone had poured gasoline on the fire. I became obsessed with finding ways to see him like that again, or to see if I could get him to look at me again like he had that day he’d watched me in my bikini. When I knew he was coming over to use the gym or ti talk business with my father, I’d make sure to dress a little, well, skimpier than I might have ever actually dressed.
There was even a day when he came over to lift some weights where I causally let drop that I’d be out for a run for the next hour. Instead, I’d hidden in my closet — bedroom door wide and my panty drawer open as I peered through the crack in the closet door to watch. I’d felt like I was out on safari, hunting big game or something. Like I was waiting for the lion to stroll into my sights.
But he never did, and eventually, I just heard the sound of his car driving away.
In his office now, I let my hand wander up my leg as I thought of him. My fingertips found the slick wetness of my pussy, making me gasp sharply before I quickly pulled my hand away.
What was I doing?
For a second, it suddenly hit me — that I was skipping summer school to sneak off to my father’s law firm, to wait in my stepbrother’s office to…what? To seduce him? I wanted to cringe at even thinking it. I mean, Channing was Channing. The man was sexy as sin, and beautiful, and muscled, and this successful lawyer. What did I honestly think he’d ever want with me? I’d never seen him with anyone, thank God, but I couldn’t imagine Channing exactly being short on ready and willing women.
The thought made my scowl deepen, and I glanced at my hands.
I should have just sent the letter.
That’s what I should have done. I should have given him the note where I’d poured everything out, and then disappeared to California, where I’d never see him again or have to face the inevitable rejection. Like I might that day. I mean, what would happen when I tried to tempt him with the absolutely zero “feminine charms” I had and he said no? Or worse, when he called me sick for thinking things like that about my own stepbrother?
Suddenly, I panicked. My head spun and my stomach knotted as I jumped out of Channing’s chair. I shook my head, pushing my fingers through my hair as only one thought ran through my mind: I had to get the heck out of there before I totally embarrassed myself.
I walked briskly across his office, wondering how soon I could get a cab back to school and how easily I might slip back into 5th period. When suddenly, just as my hand touched the knob, the door to the office flung open, sending me reeling back.
And suddenly, there he was — filling the doorway, looming over me, and with his eyes burning right into me.
My heart jumped into my throat, and I gasped as Channing’s gaze sizzled through me. He didn’t look mad that I was in his office without him. He actually didn’t look surprised either. My eyes locked with his, and as I felt myself start to tingle and melt under that gaze, I slowly put a name to the look on his face.
Hunger.
I swallowed, any sense of my plan to somehow “put the moves on him” evaporating as he stepped into me, and into the room.
“Well, well, well…” he growled lowly, his eyes never leaving mine as he swung the door shut behind him with a click.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” He almost looked amused as he stepped right into me, making me gasp as he brushed past me and moved towards his desk. I shivered, the skin of my wrist tingling where his hand had brushed me on his way past.
“Probably,” I said, trying to sound cool and flippant but failing as my voice quavered a little. I turned to watch him sink into his chair, his eyes locked on me and this strange, thin, almost smile on his face as he drank me in. God he was good looking. He’d draped his jacket over the back of his chair. His pale blue button up shirt, crisp and definitely tailored, fit snug across his broad, muscled chest and shoulders. His collar was buttoned around his dark, thin tie, and his sleeves were rolled halfway up his gorgeous, rippling forearms.