“Yeah. Let’s go. Open your legs.”
The shift in her expression from soft and hazy to surprised and then wary hits me way below the belt. Or above it, I guess. Hell, it’s vibrating through every part of me, like a gong.
I know I shouldn’t do this. Any of it. I should shove her out that door and send her home and leave her alone forever. It’s what she wants. A family of her own. No attachments.
We’ve got that in common. I’ve perfected the art of the free, no-strings existence and she’s looking for a no-strings family. I get it. Viscerally.
I’m a complication this woman didn’t ask for. The best thing I can do now is fill her up and send her home.
I look her up and down, slow and dirty, and choke out, “Take off your shirt and open those legs,” in a voice that feels like it’s gone through a wood chipper. Then, to dig a deeper trench between reality and that fantasy world I accidentally fell into, I palm my dick and add, “Let’s get this over with.”
Kit
“Overwith?”
Something just happened. I have no idea what, but it’s obvious in Jake’s rigid stance, the glare bordering on belligerence, following every one of my moves like a hawk.
“What are you doing, Jake?” I ask, voice quiet as I attempt to get my underwear back in place. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Just ready to move this to the bedroom.”
There are unseen levels to Jake, I realize, as we stand here glaring at each other, post orgasm. Depths I’d never guessed at the first couple times we met.
He’s not just the easygoing guy or the rough guy or the efficient guy in the kitchen. He’s all of these things and more and the Jake across from me right now is intimidation itself.
My movements slow and cautious, I get the skirt over my thighs and stand to let it cover my knees. “You okay?”
“Great.”
He doesn’t look great. He looks pissed, which makes zero sense given that I just did exactly what he begged me to do and literally sat on his face.
My cheeks flush red at the thought. “I think I should go.”
“I think you should take that shirt off.”
My pulse kicks up at the low, dark thing lurking in his tone. “Do you?”
His nod is measured, even, his eyes at half-mast. My heart’s thumping wildly in my chest, which could be a by-product of the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life. It could also be my body’s instinctual response to whatever it is he’s doing.
Carefully, my eyes glued to his, I edge one foot right, all the while struggling to get my clothes together.
“What are you doing, Kit?”
“Nothing,” I whisper. It’s a complete lie. I am definitely doing something, although I can’t formulate into words exactly what that something is.
This feels like a game, suddenly. A very dangerous game that I very badly want to play, despite how scary it is.
“You are. You’re disobeying my direct order.” He watches me through narrowed eyes.
I snort, hoping the sound covers the subtle shift of my body weight. “I don’t follow orders.”
His nostrils flare. “You remember that safe word?”
Everything inside me lurches. Oh, god. Oh, god, what is this? What are we doing? Shaky now, I nod, every move slow and careful.
“Say it.”
“Red,” I whisper as I inch farther over. One foot, then another.
