She’s as sharp as a whip.
I slide on the couch until her bent leg touches my thigh.
I lean in and wait for a beat.
When she doesn’t protest, I’m on her.
The urge to crush her to me and claim her pretty little mouth with my own is all-encompassing, but I will myself to be patient. I kiss her chin.
One touch.
One simple touch, and I’m hard as steel.
One defining touch that stomps all over the borders I’ve forced myself to respect since she’s moved in with me.
Eager to devour every sinful inch of this woman, I resume my mission and kiss along her jaw, before crawling down the length of her slender neck. She moans and extends her neck, giving me better access.
She wants this as much as I do.
I’ve obsessed over taking ownership of this woman for so long. Finally, my fantasy becomes reality.
A heady rush shoots straight to my brain, as potent as a shot of cocaine.
Her skin is warm, soft, and supple, just the way I’ve imagined it to be in my wet dreams. My hand slides down the length ofher body and my fingers slide underneath the edge of her jeans shorts. I splay my hand around her thigh and squeeze.
“Oh, God, Kaz.” Her deep raspy voice comes out breathy.
My heart thumps to the same beat as the deafening march of stallions in my ears. “Fuck, Harley, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear my name on your lips as I bring you pleasure.” Softening my touch, I caress the inside of her thigh.
Heavy lidded eyes stare at me.
A feral monster ignites inside me and roars to life.
Enough teasing?—
Her phone rings.
I groan.
I pull back and cup her face in my hands. “Ignore it.”
Her green eyes flare as her grip on my shirt tightens. “Okay.” Her breath is shallow and slow.
The phone stops ringing.
Good.
Back to the program.
It rings again.
Fuck.
She turns her face in the cradle of my hands to check her screen. Her body stiffens.
My gaze shifts to the offending device sitting on the coffee table and I catch a name flashing at me.
A. Monte Cristo.
