I grunt a silent remind. She forces herself to move, shoving another bite into her mouth.
I start massaging her thigh.
She keeps eating, but now her breathing comes in quick, uneven pants.
I slide my hand higher.
Inches. Mere inches from where I want to be. I can feel her heat. Even through the sweatpants, her body calls to me.
My cock is aching, throbbing, demanding. My grip on her leg tightens. Not to tease her, but because my own need overwhelms me.
I started touching her to drive her mad. To make her suffer like I’m suffering.
It’s backfiring. The blood in my head is roaring. I can’t hear anything else. Can’t think of anything else.I need her.
And I can see I’m affecting her just as much. She’s completely red. Her chest rises and falls with quick, uneven breaths. Her thighs press together, trapping my hand between them. Inches from her sweet, wet, perfect heat.
I lean in, dropping my voice to a rough whisper. “I’m seconds away from bending you over this table and fucking you, sweetheart.” Her breath catches. “Just say the word.” I nip her earlobe, in a sinful promise.
She shudders. Not just a tremble, her entire body reacts.
For a split second, she leans in.
Not away. In.
Then, like she realizes what she’s doing, she jerks back, eyes wild.
“I can’t–” The words are a breathy whisper, barely there.
Then, before I can blink, she bolts.
She jumps up from her chair and sprints out the door.
I sit there, stunned.
What the fuck just happened?
I’ve never had a woman literally run away from sex with me. Is there something wrong with me?
Impossible. I’m irresistible.
So, what the fuck is wrong with this girl?
Chapter 17
Margot
I’m sprinting down the hallway, taking random turns. By some miracle, I find the stairs and fly up them, moving faster than I knew I could. By the time I reach the master bedroom, I’m out of breath.
Huh. I made it to the bedroom. Guess I paid more attention during the tour than I thought.
Fuck. I’m in the bedroom. And Matty will be here any second.
I know I can’t outrun him, but I had to get out of there. If I stayed a second longer, I would’ve begged him to follow through on his promise. To bend me over the table and fuck me on it.
My stomach tightens.
He kidnapped me! I cannot be having these feelings towards him. Who the hell lusts after their kidnapper? A crazy person! Oh, maybe I have Stockholm Syndrome.Or maybe he’s hot as hell and sexy as sin.
