My eyes flicked up immediately as I mentally counted the days.
He was right.
I was usually meticulous about tracking it, preparing myself for the emotional shift, the restlessness, the spike in my already ridiculous libido.
Nature’s way of reminding me what my body was built to do.
Nature’s way of telling me I needed dick.
Nature was a twisted bitch.
Dropping eggs without my consent.
“I know that look,” he warned.
I sighed, the sound escaping me before I could stop it.
“I’m a healthy woman with healthy needs. There is nothing wrong with me,” I recited, the familiar words coming out with a weary kind of resignation.
It had become my mantra over the past few weeks, something I repeated whenever the old shame threatened to creep back in.
Unfortunately, my mantra didn’t provide me with dick.
I glared at him across the space between us.
He had a dick.
Why couldn’t he help me out?
He didn’t move, but the air between us shifted slightly, the quiet stretching as his steady blue gaze settled on my face. The faint scent of his cologne drifted across the room again—clean, warm, maddeningly subtle—and I had to resist the urge to fidget where I sat.
The office suddenly felt smaller.
Quiet.
And far too warm.
I trickled a little more onto his couch.
Chapter 8
Maddox
My eyes drifted to the silky hosiery hugging her legs before settling at the hem of her black skirt. A respectable length. Proper. Demure.
Yet as I drew in a slow breath, I could swear the faint scent of her arousal lingered in the air between us.
She had written down every filthy fantasy she wanted like a shopping list. From something as simple as a kiss to—
I took a steadying breath.
“Let’s do some breathing exercises,” I said, waiting for her to close her resentful eyes.
We were almost there. Weeks of careful work had brought us to this point, each session guiding her a little further, each confession loosening another thread of restraint.
The perfect storm.
Her hips shifted slightly against the couch.
