Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Tate is at his window.
My heart jumps to my throat. I’m wearing nothing but skimpy panties and a strapless bra. And he notices. Of course he notices. His eyes rake over my body, admiring, lingering, then moving up to my face. I expect him to reach for his phone and text a smartass remark.
Instead, he starts unbuttoning his shirt.
My breath hitches.
It’s impossible to look away. I’ve seen his bare chest before, but the act of undressing … it’s almost more intimate than nudity itself. I can scarcely breathe. Slowly, he parts the front of the white dress shirt and eases it off his shoulders. His gaze never leaves mine as he tosses the shirt away.
I step toward the window, but I don’t draw the curtains. Not even a gun to my head could compel me to close these curtains right now. I swallow, trying to bring moisture to my throat. It remains bone-dry.
Tate unzips his pants.
I moan out loud, and even though he’s twenty feet away, I swear I see the corners of his mouth quirk up.
He pushes his gray trousers down his legs. Kicks them away. My gaze involuntarily lowers to his groin. There’s no mistaking the long ridge of arousal straining against his white boxer briefs. The material is stretched taut over his erection, leaving very little to the imagination. I’m mesmerized.
This is dangerous territory. We’re on the edge of a cliff here. He just stripped down to his underwear and now it’s my move. I can shut the drapes and pretend this never happened.
Or …
I hear a buzzing from the bed. I look over, expecting an incoming text. But it’s a call. Gulping, I grab the phone with a shaky hand. I swipe to answer it.
“I’m not not into it.” His raspy voice tickles my ear.
“W-what?” My mouth is so dry I can barely get that one word out.
“You said I friend-zoned you because I’m not into you. That’s not true.” He huffs out a breath. “I know it sounded like a bunch of excuses, but I meant it when I said it’s easier to keep things platonic. But that’s not to say I wasn’t attracted to you. I was. I still am.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” There’s a beat. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me.”
The request slips out before I can stop it.
Forget the cliff. It’s long gone. I’ve sailed over the edge and am basically free falling. My heart beats so hard and so fast that my ribs are sore. Every muscle in my body is tense, knees quaking as I move closer to the window.
Tate’s got the phone to his ear. He’s watching me. But he still hasn’t responded.
And then his low voice slides into my ear.
“Are you calling the shots?”
This time there’s no mistaking the naughty curve of his lips. And I realize this is the out we both require. A way to distance ourselves from the mistake we’re probably about to make. He said I could order him around just for tonight. So why not. Let’s treat it like a game. A fun little game without any consequences.
“Yeah.” My voice is soft. “I’m calling the shots.” I take a breath. “Show me how much you want me.”
As I watch, he taps his phone and then sets it on the window ledge. He’s put me on speaker. Three seconds later, he’s naked. Naked and gorgeous and gloriously turned on. Long and hard, and bigger than I expected.
My mouth turns to sawdust again, and I gulp rapidly. Tate drifts a hand down his bare chest. Slow, leisurely. He wraps it around the thick shaft and gives a slow stroke. I bite back another moan.
“I’m drunk,” I tell him.
“Me too.”
I can’t take my eyes off his hand. Those long fingers curled around his erection. “We’re friends.”
“We are,” he agrees.
“Friends shouldn’t do this.”
“Probably not.” He pauses. “See this?” Another long, deliberate stroke. “This is how hard you make me. Lately I’ve started jerking off before I know I’m going to see you, just to curb the temptation.”
The filthy picture he paints makes my nipples tingle. “Are you serious?”
“Mmm-hmm. And I’m going to get myself off the moment you close those curtains.”
My hand trembles so wildly I nearly drop the phone. “Who says I’m going to close them?”
From across the way, I glimpse the faint movement of his tongue, swiping across his bottom lip to moisten the corner of his mouth.
“You have no idea how good you look right now,” he says roughly.
Clutching the phone to my ear, I bring my other hand behind my back, searching for the clasp of my bra. It’s an easy one to undo single-handed. I flick it open and the bra flutters to the floor.
The moment my breasts are exposed, Tate makes a tortured sound. Husky and deep.
“How about now? How do I look?”