Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
As much as he guarded her like the crown jewels, he supported her independence.
It was only occasionally she wanted to be pinned down and told she belonged to him.
Okay, fine. She wanted that constantly.
Obviously he wanted that, too, so why couldn’t they give in? Just once.
“Should I keep stripping so you can find out?”
His breath rasped in and out. “Yes. God help me.”
Chloe held up the garment in question, even though her arm was shaking. “I’ll probably wear these with a simple white button-down. Since I’m going for professional.”
Sig nodded. She turned briefly to watch a line snap in his cheek. “Try it all on.”
The small muscles of Chloe’s sex drew in tight on themselves. “Okay,” she murmured, undoing the front snap of her black bra. Exposing her breasts to the cool air of her closet, watching excitement turn her nipples to hard pearls as she drew the straps down her arms. Off.
She didn’t turn around. She was too afraid his intensity would cause her to combust.
Already she was on the verge, just having his gaze lick her back like a flame.
And when she reached for the closest white button-down shirt hanging on the rack, she knew Sig caught the full profile of her left breast. Knew it for sure by the low sound of hunger he emitted, the splintering sound the wood doorframe made in his grip.
“You’ll wear a bra with that tomorrow, right?” Sig asked, noticeably struggling to keep his voice even. Stopping to breathe in and out between the fifth and sixth word.
“Yes,” she answered, pulling the shirt on over hypersensitive skin, fastening the buttons with shaking fingers. “I just don’t feel like hunting up my nude one right now.”
“Good.”
The silence between them stretched, but it was far from quiet inside their bodies. Minds. Chloe knew on instinct she wasn’t alone in that. Her heart was loud, knocking into her ribs, and intuition told her Sig was in the same state. They were a messy pair. Everything about what they were doing was messy but stopping seemed impossible.
Chloe bit down on her bottom lip until she felt pain, needing to distract from the hunger yawning in her belly. How it reared its head when she bent forward slowly, pushing her leggings down to her knees. Then, lower, to her ankles. She needed him to look at her mostly bare backside, the way he was doing now. She needed him to see the minuscule black thong she’d worn after touching herself to fantasies about him that morning, the tight fit against her sex making her think of him inappropriately all day.
Every time she sat down or stood up.
Sig was openly panting behind her. Not hiding his lust. Not for the moment.
That’s why she couldn’t turn around. If she saw it and couldn’t slake it, she’d die.
“Christ, you are so goddamn gorgeous.” She heard him swallow a jagged groan. “I want to wrestle you down and fuck you so bad, I’m shaking. Are you happy?”
Sound rushed in her ears.
It might have been her, though. Gasping for air. She couldn’t be sure. “No. Yes.”
“Give me the next best thing. Pick up that jersey and drag it up between your beautiful legs.”
Chloe’s knees dipped, the erotic command sending every ounce of blood in her body rushing south. Had she initiated this? Yes. But the need tightening its grip around her was more intense than she could have imagined. Would it kill her to only experience this once and then stop? Possibly. Maybe she’d been shortsighted to even try. “Sig . . .”
“Tell me you don’t want more of this, too.”
“I do. I do so bad.” She started to tremble, her nipples so tight they felt like they were being pinched in between two powerful fingers. Lust took the driver’s seat, then, propelled there by the raw desperation in his tone. Closing her eyes, she bent forward another inch and picked up the jersey, pressing the cool mesh to her inner ankle and slowly, slowly trailing it up the curve of her calves, the insides of her knee, whimpering when she reached the sensitive inner portion of her thighs.
“Good girl. If I can’t be between your thighs, let me enjoy having my name there.” After a moment of heaving breathing, his voice dropped another octave. “Press it where we both wish I could put my cock, Chloe.”
A sob wrenched from her throat and she was forced to stabilize herself by slapping the flat of her left hand onto the wall while her right one pulled the jersey upward another two inches and pressed. Hard to her core. Hard enough to make her breath escape in a shudder.
“Goddamn,” he rasped. “Does it feel good?”
Chloe could barely see the closet wall in front of her. Everything in her world was a blur of shapes and colors, the waves of need growing larger, more powerful. “Not as good as you would feel.”