Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
I swing the door open. He’s leaning on one arm against the doorframe and he’s silent as I gaze up at him, a few inches taller than before, with my heels off now. Then he’s stepping forward and pulling me to him as he kicks the door shut. He doesn’t say a word, instead roughly grasps the back of my neck and dips his head to meet my lips. And his lips? They feel like everything I’ve ever imagined they would. Soft, yet aggressive. Commanding. The lock clicks on the door and then his other hand lands on my hip, guiding me backwards into the room.
“Undress,” he demands, breaking away from me. I’m still leaning forward, my mind trying to catch up with the fact that his lips are gone.
“What?”
“Take off your clothes,” he instructs, shrugging out of his winter coat. He doesn’t take his eyes off of mine as he tosses the coat at the back of my couch.
I hesitate, glancing down at my outfit. There’s not much between what I’m wearing and complete nudity; the only undergarment I have on is a pair of black panties. My bra was ditched with my shirt and pants when Everly gave me this party makeover.
“Do you want me to leave, Sandra?”
I finger the button on my blazer. Do I? “Do you want a drink or something?” I ask instead of answering, glancing away from him to the kitchen. Do I have anything I could offer Gabe? An open bottle of wine or diet soda. Unlikely he wants either.
“No.” He shakes his head, a smirk on his face as he loosens his tie. “No, I’m not interested in a drink.”
I swallow and nod. This is real. This is happening. Gabe wants me. This is not a figment of my imagination. Time to own it, Sandra.
I unbutton the blazer and slip it off my shoulders, letting it hit the floor behind me as I flick my eyes up to watch Gabe’s reaction. He rubs his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger and gives me the slightest nod, a silent instruction to continue. I suck in a breath and hook my thumbs into the skirt, then slide it over my hips until it too is pooled on the floor with my blazer. I’m left bare save for my panties.
“Don’t stop,” he says, several feet in front of me, his eyes locked on mine. He’s still fully dressed and it makes me feel dirty in the best possible way.
I bite my bottom lip and hook both thumbs into my panties. They’re not fancy—black cotton with a lace waistband—but I’m not going to second-guess them because I don’t think he cares; he just wants them off. I slide them to mid-thigh with both hands, then let go with one and step out of them one leg at a time until they’re dangling from my fingertips in one hand. I let them go and try to stifle the shiver that wants to run through me, both from my nerves and the temperature in my apartment.
He prowls towards me. There’s no other way to describe it. It’s only a few steps but he’s taking his time. He reaches me and brushes my hair over my shoulder, then leans close, nipping my earlobe between his teeth. He drops his hand to my waist, his fingertips splayed over the upper swell of my ass. It makes me wet instantly, which is ridiculous but true all the same. I’ve never been this ready to go this quickly. My nipples are hard and pressed into the fabric of his suit jacket. I’m glad this isn’t one he wears to the office or I’d have to quit, positive the mere sight of it on a Tuesday would cause me to salivate at my desk.
“Tell me what you want, and I can make it happen,” he says into my ear before moving his lips to my jaw.
“I want it all,” I respond, feeling bold. And let’s be honest. Gabe Laurent in my apartment? This may never happen again. I want to experience everything he has to show me.
He laughs, softly. “Be careful what you ask for, Sandra,” he responds, then slides the hand on my back lower, slipping his index finger between my cheeks as far as it will go, then slides it back and forth, his hand anchored by his thumb and remaining fingers digging into my flesh.
I flinch a fraction, surprised by his bold touch, but then I relax into it and move my hands to his chest, sliding my palms over the fabric of his jacket. I like the feeling under my hands—it’s soft yet crisp and I can feel the strength of him through the layers of fabric. “I want anything you want,” I reply and press myself closer.