“No, stop.”
Christian not only stopped, but he pulled his hand free and stepped back. When I felt the absence of pleasure, I decided it didn’t matter who the hell heard us.
I yanked him close. “Don’t stop.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
Our lips touched. “Put your hand inside my panties.”
He released a shaky breath and obeyed my command. But his hand was still, and I knew where this game was going.
“Touch me.”
And he did, but with a look of mischief on his face. “Like this?”
“No.Harder.Stroke me harder like before.”
Christian obediently ran his fingers over my clitoris as if waiting for more instruction.
“I can’t think, Christian. Just fuckingtouch me. Make me come.Hurry.I need it.”
“Open your legs wider, Precious. Are you ready? It’s taken me decades to learn this little trick.” He gave me a sardonic smile as he skillfully touched, stroked, and revered me.
Christian did something with his fingers that I couldn’t describe, nor did I have time to process exactly what had happened. My release came suddenly, and my entire body locked as every muscle tightened. Hungry eyes watched mine possessively, and I cried out. He made no attempt to silence me. Instead of drawing out my pleasure and letting me ride those final pulses, he abruptly pulled down my shirt and swept me off my feet.
“Where are we going?” I asked, out of breath.
“Quiet, lass.” Once inside, he locked the door and carried me all the way to my room.
I felt like I’d just had a taste of the most heavenly cake, and I wanted the whole damn thing.
“Do you want me to just skip the bath?” I suggested. “Light a fire, and I’ll get you a chair.”
After setting me on my bed, he struck a match and lit a candle. “No need.”
“Right to the sex, huh? Mr. Romantic.”
He set the candle on the bedside table. “As much as I’d like you to show me your fanny, this is where we part ways.”
I eased up on my elbows. “Huh?”
Christian circled his hand over his stomach. “I’m afraid your all-American chili has given me a case of indigestion.”
I fell back. “I’ll get you back for this.”
“You already did.”
“I hate you.”
Christian swaggered through the door and then peered back, a twinkle in his eyes. “Not as much as I hate you.”
Chapter 3
Gem gripped the long rope that hung from the gym ceiling and ran until her feet lifted off the ground like Tarzan swinging on a vine. Her purple hair had a silver sheen to it. Claude had uniquely layered the colors, and the gym lights were really drawing my attention to it. Sprawled on the floor mat, I stared at the ceiling, wishing that Christian had brought me a second thermos of coffee this morning. I’d stayed awake much of the night, hoping that maybe he had been teasing about the chili and would sneak in and rekindle some of that passion.
No such luck.
But at least he remembered my coffee.
