At me, ateverything.
After weeks of stolen glances, accidental touches, and one not-so accidental kiss that had kept me—and my vibrator—up well past midnight every night this week, I was done tiptoeing around this thing brewing between us.
If Bennett King wanted me, he could have me. Right here, right now, on a silver fucking platter.
He leaned back against the front door, hands clenched at his sides.
I tried not to flinch when his eyes raked over me from head to toe. Every imperfection I usually kept hidden—the faint silver lines on my hips, the softness of my stomach—was on full display, and I felt impossibly bare to his gaze, physically and emotionally.
The realization made me shiver.
The black lace demi bra cupped me perfectly, the half-cups barely covering my breasts and leaving the upper swells exposed. My nipples, already tight from the cold and the rush of adrenaline, pressed visibly against the sheer mesh panels, straining against the thin fabric, begging to be touched.Licked.
Nibbled.
Was that a thing? Were people . . . nipple nibblers?
The matching thong rested low on my hips, though calling the small triangle of fabric held together by dental floss a thong was a disrespect to the lingerie industry at large. And as much as I hated to admit it, my ass crack was on fire.
Thankfully, Bennett’s gaze was stuck on my breasts.
Definitely a boob guy.
The raw hunger in his eyes sent heat flooding straight to my core, making my pussy clench. It wasn’t the first time he had seen me nearly naked. It wasn’t even the first time this month. And yet, I had never felt so seen.
So, why was he so quiet?
Seconds dragged by, his silence pressing in on me from all sides. And still, he said nothing.
My stomach twisted.
I couldn’t sit in silence. Not when I was so exposed and on display. Even being told to put my clothes back on or asked if I had completely lost my mind would’ve been better than what he was giving me now.
Double holy fuck balls.
Had I read this all wrong? Heat flooded my face, and this time, it wasn’t the good kind.
“Um, I didn’t mean—” I bent to grab the discarded hoodie and clutched it to my chest like a shield. “Sorry, I’ll just—”
“Arabella, stop.” His voice cut through the room, an octave lower than before. He was there in an instant, towering over me. “Why are you running away?”
I looked up at him, utterly mortified. “Well, when you didn’t say anything, I kind of assumed you weren’t interested.”
“Interested,” he repeated, spitting the word out like it tasted wrong. “Oh, baby.Interesteddoesn’t even come close to what I feel for you. I’ve been damn near obsessed since day one.”
His eyes searched mine with an intensity that made my pulse stutter and pussy flood.
“I thought I made it pretty clear how I felt when I practically mauled you against your door the other night, but apparently not.”
“That was a mutual mauling.”
“You’d been drinking.”
“So had you,” I fired back without missing a beat.
“You were in a . . . vulnerable position.”
“Would you prefer me in another position?” I teased.
