interest his dick had given the world in months.
“Not tonight.” He eased a hand through her hair, trying to soften the rejection. The coarse texture ran over his palm, nothing like the silky blonde strands he’d spent years filtering his fingers through.
He turned to walk away and then froze when she grabbed his hand. He stiffened, his spine rigid as she came up behind him, hovering at his shoulder. Gentle hands encased his waist, the pleasant slide of her fingertips moved over his stomach, the softness of a womanly body melted against his back. Over the scent of sex and foreplay in the air, he could smell her, not this stranger, but his wife.
She was here. In his head. Under his skin.
“Don’t be so quick to walk away,” the woman murmured, sounding more like Cassie with every heartbeat. “What harm can come from watching?”
Chapter Seven
Cassie wasn’t prone to crazy outbursts. At least she hadn’t been. Until now, apparently. She didn’t even know what the innuendo in her own words meant. There was no plan. No strategy. Just an invitation to put on a show she didn’t have the faintest clue how to perform. The only thing she knew was that she couldn’t let him go. His back against her chest was too comforting, and watching him walk away again wasn’t an option.
At first, she’d sat next to him at the bar, hoping to witness the level of his suffering. His emotional struggle had been clear to see. But it wasn’t enough. She yearned for something else. Something she had no clue of. That’s when she’d asked for a tour.
A part of her wanted to be rejected. She already knew her way around. The request was a test. An indicator. She’d held her breath, waiting for him to shoo her away, to show no interest in the appeal of a woman that he didn’t know was his wife.
Then he’d caved, too easily, and a part of her heart had shattered. At the same time, the pounding in her chest had intensified, yearning for more of the ferocity in his eyes. She’d became seduced by his proximity. After the months apart, she would kill to have his hands on her. To feel his passion and adoration.
He was hooked.
To her.
He turned in her embrace, his jaw set in a stubborn line. “Let me go.”
No . Not now, not ever. She did loosen her grip, though. “Don’t newbies get special treatment?” Still, she had no clue where her words were coming from. This wasn’t her.
She dug her teeth into her lower lip and batted her fake lashes. “You don’t have to touch. You don’t even have to speak. Just watch. Your eyes will tell me everything I need to know.”
His discomfort gave her confidence. Too much. Because now she was backtracking to the empty single bed, hiding the grief of losing his body heat as she scooted onto the mattress. A feast, not only for his eyes, but for the numerous other patrons in the room.
He was interested in her for one reason—she was his wife. His soul mate. Nobody else here tonight could’ve evoked interest from him. His attraction was subconscious. She knew it was and wouldn’t allow herself to believe otherwise.
She crooked a finger at him and slid farther back. This was crazy. The actions of a love-starved woman. But he was also her husband. She could do insane things for him. Anything for him.
She nestled onto the cushions, parting her thighs while she licked her lower lip in a coy taunt. Her stomach was filled with butterflies. Her heart was pounding in her throat. And despite the nerves, her nipples hardened to painful peaks and the sweet spot between her thighs began to tingle.
T.J. lifted his chin and clenched his hands at his sides once…twice. The internal struggle was etched across his tight features. He was fighting the attraction, denying he wanted another woman. When all along it was his wife he still desired.
Slowly, she raised a hand, trailing it over the material of her slip, along her sternum, her neck, to her lips. T.J. watched the progression, his focus riveted,
“Not tonight.” He eased a hand through her hair, trying to soften the rejection. The coarse texture ran over his palm, nothing like the silky blonde strands he’d spent years filtering his fingers through.
He turned to walk away and then froze when she grabbed his hand. He stiffened, his spine rigid as she came up behind him, hovering at his shoulder. Gentle hands encased his waist, the pleasant slide of her fingertips moved over his stomach, the softness of a womanly body melted against his back. Over the scent of sex and foreplay in the air, he could smell her, not this stranger, but his wife.
She was here. In his head. Under his skin.
“Don’t be so quick to walk away,” the woman murmured, sounding more like Cassie with every heartbeat. “What harm can come from watching?”
Chapter Seven
Cassie wasn’t prone to crazy outbursts. At least she hadn’t been. Until now, apparently. She didn’t even know what the innuendo in her own words meant. There was no plan. No strategy. Just an invitation to put on a show she didn’t have the faintest clue how to perform. The only thing she knew was that she couldn’t let him go. His back against her chest was too comforting, and watching him walk away again wasn’t an option.
At first, she’d sat next to him at the bar, hoping to witness the level of his suffering. His emotional struggle had been clear to see. But it wasn’t enough. She yearned for something else. Something she had no clue of. That’s when she’d asked for a tour.
A part of her wanted to be rejected. She already knew her way around. The request was a test. An indicator. She’d held her breath, waiting for him to shoo her away, to show no interest in the appeal of a woman that he didn’t know was his wife.
Then he’d caved, too easily, and a part of her heart had shattered. At the same time, the pounding in her chest had intensified, yearning for more of the ferocity in his eyes. She’d became seduced by his proximity. After the months apart, she would kill to have his hands on her. To feel his passion and adoration.
He was hooked.
To her.
He turned in her embrace, his jaw set in a stubborn line. “Let me go.”
No . Not now, not ever. She did loosen her grip, though. “Don’t newbies get special treatment?” Still, she had no clue where her words were coming from. This wasn’t her.
She dug her teeth into her lower lip and batted her fake lashes. “You don’t have to touch. You don’t even have to speak. Just watch. Your eyes will tell me everything I need to know.”
His discomfort gave her confidence. Too much. Because now she was backtracking to the empty single bed, hiding the grief of losing his body heat as she scooted onto the mattress. A feast, not only for his eyes, but for the numerous other patrons in the room.
He was interested in her for one reason—she was his wife. His soul mate. Nobody else here tonight could’ve evoked interest from him. His attraction was subconscious. She knew it was and wouldn’t allow herself to believe otherwise.
She crooked a finger at him and slid farther back. This was crazy. The actions of a love-starved woman. But he was also her husband. She could do insane things for him. Anything for him.
She nestled onto the cushions, parting her thighs while she licked her lower lip in a coy taunt. Her stomach was filled with butterflies. Her heart was pounding in her throat. And despite the nerves, her nipples hardened to painful peaks and the sweet spot between her thighs began to tingle.
T.J. lifted his chin and clenched his hands at his sides once…twice. The internal struggle was etched across his tight features. He was fighting the attraction, denying he wanted another woman. When all along it was his wife he still desired.
Slowly, she raised a hand, trailing it over the material of her slip, along her sternum, her neck, to her lips. T.J. watched the progression, his focus riveted,
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