RYDER:How’s the writing going?
ME:Good. Productive morning. How’s work?
RYDER:Glad to hear it. Work is good.
Then, a couple of minutes later:
RYDER:What are you wearing?
I nearly choke on my coffee. The nerve of this man.
ME:Clothes.
RYDER:What a shame. I was hoping you’d still be naked.
Heat floods my cheeks as images from the night before bounce around traitorously in my head—his big hand squeezing my throat, his hot mouth on my clit and the way he made me come completely apart.
ME:I thought we agreed to slow things down.
RYDER:We agreed to slow-burn. And I never agreed to stop thinking about you. Or stop wanting you. This is me adding slow-burn into the mix.
Despite my best efforts to remain unaffected, my pulse quickens.
ME:You’re really a pain in the ass, you know that?
RYDER:And you’re avoiding my question. What are you wearing, kitten?
I look down at my outfitand sigh.
ME:Yoga pants and a T-shirt.
RYDER:The black ones that hug your ass?
Dammit. Now my face is burning.
ME:Yes?
RYDER:Fuck. Now all I can think about is peeling them off you with my teeth.
I squeeze my thighs together, trying to suppress the pulse of heat between my legs.
ME:Aren’t you supposed to be working?
RYDER:I am working. Just finished a piece on a client’s shoulder blade. But I keep thinking about last night and how your pussy felt fluttering around my cock just before I made you come.
I stare at his words, my breathing growing shallow. This is exactly what I was afraid of—Ryder getting under my skin, making me lose focus.
ME:STOP
RYDER:Stop what? Telling you how much I want to taste you again? How I’m already hard just thinking about the sounds you make when you come?
“Holy shit.” I fan myself with my hand.
ME:You’re seriously playing dirty, you know that?
RYDER:Don’t say I didn’t warn you. How’s the slow-burn working out for you so far?
I set the phone down, take a deep breath, and try to regain my composure. But the damage is done—my body is humming with need, and my concentration is completely shot.
