Then again, who knows what’s happening between the pages?
I’ve never been much of a reader, never took pleasure in it like others, but curiosity stirs low in my gut, so I scroll back to the top and press play on her current read.
“We’re not finished here, Princess.”
He lavished kisses on the backs of her knees, gliding up her smooth thighs and spreading them wide so he could look his fill. When he reached the vee between her legs, she was quivering with need, her pussy wet and glistening with arousal.
Christ. The desire to taste her was visceral, a craving that tested his tightly held control.
He palmed her luscious ass cheeks, kneading the tender flesh.
“If you want me to continue,” he said, nipping at her inner thigh. “You will not move. You’re going to stand here and take what I give you. Understood?”
She nodded.
“Say it, Princess. Tell me you’re going to take it like a good girl.”
She turned to look over her shoulder, meeting his gaze with a sultry smile. “Oh, I’m going to take it. Every inch. But I can’t promise to be good. Not when being naughty feels so much better.”
Holy shit.
It’s like a fucking instruction manual.
I listen for another couple of minutes and by the time the couple in the book has climaxed, I’m sporting a semi and I can’t think of anything except the sexy little spitfire on the bed next to me.
How the hell does she listen to this stuff in public and not get turned on by it?
Who says she’s not turned on?
Facts. She could be horny as fuck right now and I wouldn’t know it.
My eyes slide to Sutton, and she hurriedly looks down.
This was a terrible fucking idea. The study date. The bedroom. The sexy audiobook that has completely derailed my focus.
Nice job, asshole.
We can sit here and pretend like we’re working, or we can address the giant fucking elephant in the room. Namely, the fact that I want this girl so badly it hurts.
Maybe that’s my bruised ego talking, but I don’t think so. I’ve been hot for her from the moment we met. Or, met again. This Sutton, the one with the nose piercing and snarky mouth, who doesn’t take shit from anyone, intrigues me in a way no one ever has.
Like the guy in her audio book, I revel in the challenge. In knowing that she can—and will—meet me toe-to-toe.
“Let me guess.” I hold up the phone. “You listen for the plot.”
She pulls a face, scrunching up her nose in that adorable way she does when she’s annoyed. “What are you even listening to?”
I tell her the title and she rolls her eyes.
“That’s not even a spicy one.”
“Sounded pretty spicy to me,” I say, rising from the desk chair to return the phone.
“It’s like a three out of five on the clitometer.”
The moment the words are out of her mouth, she turns scarlet.
It’s all I can do not to laugh, but I hold it in. I’m mature like that.
