I grab his hand.
I gasp against him as his fingers, punishing through the fabric, stroke me.
“Do you want me to bend down and eat you out?”
“No,” I slur, because that’s what good girls do—they say no to bad boys who offer sex.
“Hm.” He stands up abruptly.
I almost fall out of the chair.
“Then get out.” It’s a cold, casual dismissal.
“Not until you pick a—”
“You going to play with your tits and ride my cock? No? Then get out of my office.”
“Not until you select a girlfriend.” My voice doesn’t tremble. Well, not really.
He opens the binder at random and tears out a page. “This one.”
I take the headshot.
“Don’t be late tonight,” he calls after me. “I hear it's an important evening.”
30
MCCARTHY
“She’s basically if Jenna were athletic and well rested and was more diligent about her skin care routine.”
Jenna’s in my kitchen on the phone to her friend.
“No, she sounded very excited… I don’t know?”
“What do you mean you don’t think this dress works? I’ve worn it to a work—yes, I know it’s a charity dinner, but I’m in the background. Sable St. James—yes, that’s her real name!” The fridge door slams.
“Don’t say that. She can’t be an escort. Bethany will kill me.”
I don’t know who’s showing up. I didn’t even look at the page I slapped in Jenna’s hands.
Earlier in the study, I could focus only on Jenna—the obvious want in her eyes, the determined set of her mouthswollen from my kisses—as she fought an ugly battle with herself to keep from throwing herself in my arms.
Women don’t resist me. Certainly not ones like Jenna.
I watch her moving around my kitchen, talking to Truman, asking him if he’s been fed, and telling him not to get too cozy because they weren’t staying here.
“Where are you staying?”
She jumps and scuttles back against the countertop as I advance on her.
I don’t kiss her, though. I want to enjoy the chaos of the hunt. She’s making those big, unblinking eyes, like prey. I like toying with her. Still, I’m almost uncomfortably addicted to the thought of her being consumed by me, wearing my ring on her finger.
I shake my head, grab the back of her neck, and kiss her because I can, because even if she pushes against me, I can tell by the curl of her fingers that she doesn’t mean it. She wants me to hike her up on the counter and fuck her.
The skirt of the dress rides easy up her thighs. My fingers steal under the thin lace strings of her panties. My tongue slips in her mouth as she wraps her legs around my waist, trying to bring me closer.
The doorbell rings.
