I get into my room and take another deep, deep breath.
Just a case, I remind myself.
This is just a case.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Jenna
Ilie in bed, and the moment I pull the sheets over me, my hand drifts down to my clit. My whole body clenches like a greedy little fist. That bastard has been haunting my goddamn thoughts since this morning when I caught a glimpse of his cock swinging heavy between those tree-trunk thighs. That man is built like a fucking Greek statue—if Greek statues had veins that throbbed along their forearms and abs so deep you could lose a finger tracing them. And thatdick—thick, long, the kind of cock that makes your mouth water justthinkingabout how it would stretch your lips wide. How the ridge would catch on your tongue when you sucked him down to the root. Not that I usually think like that. Well, maybe right now because I’m dying of horniness. It still feels so surreal that I sometimes get those innocent kisses from him. Yet, they always come across as if he’s kissing his sister or something. I don’t think he sees me the way I see him—like a giant piece of chocolate I want to devour.
I want him to ruin me.
I want his teeth on my neck, his hands bruising my hips, his cock pounding into me until I forget my own goddamn name. Just the thought makes me rub my clit faster.
My brain has turned to mush since I saw him in the shower. It’s all-consuming. And just as I stroke my clit, I picture him kissing me right there. I’ve never let a man do that.
Matthew once said he thinks women smell, and that was the end of it for me. I could never let him near my pussy, and before Matthew, I only had casual encounters with three others. I was too young back then to fully explore my body and desires. But now, all I can think about is Colton’s tongue on my clit, maybe even sliding into my hole, and I shudder at the thought. I crave more, so I slide my finger into my pussy, and a tiny gasp leaves my mouth.
But my fingers aren’t cutting it.
I’msoaked, my pussy lips swollen and sticky, but the second I push a second finger in, it’s like my body knows it’s not him and just dries up out of spite until it hurts. This is useless. I fumble for my vibrator in my bedside table, desperate, but—fuck my life— of course the batteries are dead. I’m this close to screaming into my pillow when I remember: I saw some batteries in the pantry.
My breasts jiggle beneath the baggy shirt as I shoot upright—no bra. My nipples are so hard they throb. I can feel the dampness of my panties as they cling to me. I need to hurry or I can forget my orgasm… again.
Cautiously I peek out the door like I’m about to pull off some heist, but it looks clear. At least, I hope it is since I promised myself I’d never step out of my room wearing just my panties ever again.
I guess Colton is in his room and Livy is asleep. Perfect. So much so that I sprint to the kitchen but as I reach for the pantrydoor, I hear a throat clear and I freeze with my hand on the golden handle.
Oh fuck.
Of course there’s Colton, sprawled on his couch, flicking through Netflix, searching for something to watch. Damn it. It was so quiet… why isn’t he in his room?
Well, this is his apartment, and it’s normal for someone to kick back and watch TV on their couch, especially with that massive screen out here. What isn’t normal is that I’m racing to his pantry to swipe batteries for my vibrator.
“Late-night snack?” he asks and his eyesdragover me, lingering on my naked thighs then… my boobs.
Shit. Are my nipples that pointy?
Of course they are.
I swallow hard, my pussypulsing. “I just want some tea, I can’t sleep,” I lie, and my voice cracks. I never drink tea. Only when I’m sick.
“Tea bags are by the kettle.”
Great. “Thank you.”
So, I guess I have to make that stupid tea.
My hands are shaking, my corethrobbingwith every step because I canfeelhis gaze on me—hot and heavy—and when I dare to meet it, his eyes aredark, hungry.
I make a mental note: get dressed properly before leaving your room. No matter what time it is. Idiot. That’s when I notice he’s sprawled there in nothing but gray joggers, his chest bare, and oh my god, those abs look incredible in the faint blue light.
I swallow hard. The way he looks… it makes me wet all over again, and I press my legs together, praying away the horniness.
As the kettle hums, I lean over the kitchen counter, my eyes glued to him as he scrolls through the streaming platform.
“There’s no good movies, I fear,” he says. “I just want to watchsomethingto get my mind off…”
