Page 114 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series
“Jesus,” he said breathlessly. He kissed her lightly, his lips lingering despite the fact both of them were gasping. It was the sweetest of kisses.
Finally, regretfully, he released her lips, lifted and moved out of her body. She pressed her legs together, wishing there was some way to hold on to the feeling of being filled by him forever.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him pull off the condom and toss it into the small trashcan beside the bed.
Then, as always, he used his undeniable strength to put Amy where he wanted. He twisted her boneless body to its side until he was spooning her. Their bodies curved together as if they were puzzle pieces, a perfect fit.
Amy and Andrew.
Andrew.
His name niggled at her sleepy, sex-overloaded brain, as did the restraints and the sex toys in the wrong room.
Andrew.
Amy’s eyes flew open.
Mother of God, she’d just slept with Harper’s brother!
She was naked and twisted up like a pretzel with Andrew Shaw.
The truth of what she’d done crashed down on her like atomic bombs from an attacking army. Tonight wasn’t a setup, though it definitely qualified as a surprise. Andrew had come home early and, in her sleep-deprived state, she’d convinced herself Harper had hooked her up with a fantasy lover. Had that answer actually made sense to her at some point?
Fuckity-fuck-fuck.
She’d fucked up.
And she fucked her friend’s brother.
Bloody hell. She wassofucked.
And while she knew now she’d made a whopper of a mistake, one question still remained.
Who the fuck did he thinkshewas?
Chapter3
Andrew rose much earlier than he expected the morning after his incredible night with Amy. He studied the tired face of his midnight visitor. She slept the sleep of the dead. He didn’t blame her. If he weren’t so jet-lagged, and if his internal clock wasn’t so screwed up, he’d probably still be down for the count as well.
Rising, he crossed to his dresser and dug around for a pair of sweatpants. Throwing them on, he walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth and shave. His thick beard grew in quickly and it had been at least four days since his face had seen a razor thanks to the trip from hell. His onscreen persona was always clean-shaven, so he wasn’t used to the scruffy man in the mirror.
He grimaced at his reflection. The circles under his eyes were too dark, his face lined with tiredness. He saw a nap in his very near future. It would probably take him a day or two to get his system sorted out.
One thing he’d never managed to overcome with his job was the adjustments to the ever-changing time zones. No matter how many cross-country journeys he made, he still suffered a sort of day-after hangover, struggling for twenty-four hours to adapt to the new time.
For a moment he considered calling Mike, but dismissed the idea. There was no way he was giving his cocky friend yet another opportunity to rub Andrew’s nose in something. Actually, it would serve Mike right if Andrew simply avoided his calls for a few days. His best friend was as meddlesome as a tabloid reporter. It might be fun to make Mike suffer for a while, wondering how his night with Amy turned out.
Amy. His mind whirled over everything that had happened last night. She’d pulled him out of his misery, giving him some of the best sex of his life. He wasn’t sure what made her different from the women he usually hooked up with at Velvet Chains. Perhaps it was just as she’d said. She didn’t submit easily. He typically played with the same subs at the club. They were well-trained, obedient. Boring. He missed the challenge.
Amy had pushed him out of his all-powerful Dom role and forced him to work for his reward. She wasn’t passive. Instead, she was refreshing, fun. Mike would have a field day with that knowledge.
Despite her obvious inexperience, he hadn’t pulled any punches, hadn’t handled her with kid gloves. And she’d taken to his rough touches like a rock star to the spotlight.
He returned to the bedroom. Picking up his phone from the nightstand, he took one last look at the bed. His midnight visitor was even prettier in daylight.
He rolled his eyes. Christ. He was acting like a smitten teenager with his first girlfriend.
Get a grip, Shaw.
