Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“What . . . what are you doing here?”
His sleepy expression firms, arousal replaced with confusion. “What?”
“What are you doing in this bed?” I repeat. I sound a little shriller the second time.
“I don’t rightly know. But Mila, I’m not the top in this situation.”
The top. I’m on top. My hand is on his hard chest, my thighs spread wide over his, my intimate bits touching his. Soaking his.
“I don’t know what you’re doing here—in this bed.” A wobbling panic fills my voice as I grapple for the sheet, but it’s wrapped around his legs. As are his cotton sleep shorts. I—we—didn’t even pause to take them fully off. And that’s the crux of my panic. I might not know how or what he’s doing here, I just know I can’t be here too.
Not given what I was about to do.
He’s loaning me money. He said we could be friends.
I can’t do this. I shouldn’t.
I yank the sheet again, the movement causing a wave of contact between us. Fin groans, and I gasp, between my legs pounding like footsteps on pavement.
“I went to bed alone and woke up dry humping you!” Only I’m not dry. I’m wet. So wet. And my heart is banging against my ribs like it’s trying to crack them. “How? How did this happen?”
He swallows audibly, his expression sort of tortured. “I can’t concentrate when your nipples are staring at me.”
I immediately give up on the sheet and cover them with my hands.
Fin groans, angling his head so his gaze is on the ceiling. “I can’t believe you thought that might help.” His words are like a whispered prayer for deliverance.
I slide from his body, another wave of Oh my God, do that again washing through me. My cheeks are burning hotter than a thousand suns as I tumble from this bed, dragging the sheet with me a second time. I slam the bathroom door behind me, but I can’t even do that right because the sheet is caught in it.
“Mila, please,” Fin calls after me. I fancy I can hear the quick pad of his feet against the tile. I yank the sheet, slamming it shut properly as his hand hits the wood.
Hands pressed to the cool vanity, I stare at my wild reflection as I try very hard to ignore the gnawing sensation the ache in his voice causes me.
I almost screwed my husband. And the worst of it is, out of the five words in that sentence, I regret only one of them.
Chapter 17
Fin
“Mila?” I rap my knuckles on the bathroom door. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” comes a little squeak. Does it sound as though she’s crying?
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I am,” she answers, her voice a little stronger. “Except the part where I woke up being molested.”
My stomach plummets. What the fuck? “No. Mila, that’s not what happened.”
“I know. I was joking.”
I frown. “It was a really shitty joke.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I say stupid things when I’m . . . when I’m embarrassed. I thought you might’ve realized that by now.” A pause. “Chia Pet?” she adds in a warble.
I smile. Despite my flagging hard-on and the ache in my chest. “There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about.”
“Easy for you to say.”
I glance down at my dick as I murmur, “It’s not. Not really.”
“You weren’t in the bed when I went to sleep. Did you come back in after you finished on the phone?”
“No, but not because I didn’t want to.” Gripping the sides of the doorframe, I rest my head against it. “I must’ve been on autopilot after I took a leak during the night.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Understandable, even. It is your bed. You might even be a hero.”
A half dozen things flash through my head, none of them making any sense. “I don’t . . .”
“You probably saved a pillow from my unwanted advances.”
I give a breath of a laugh, hot air bouncing back from the door into my face. “Not all heroes wear capes,” I say softly.
“Some of them don’t even wear pajama pants.”
“I was wearing them.” Only out of deference to her.
“That was my fault too. But I’m telling myself I was doing us both a favor—that the room was too hot.”
“It was hot.” So fucking hot I thought I might melt under her hands.
She could’ve killed me, and I wouldn’t have complained. I would’ve just enjoyed every minute of it.
I thought I was sleeping, that I was having the horniest dream, when I woke to her tight, frantic breaths; her hands; and her wet pussy sliding the length of my dick. It took me a minute to realize that Mila, my goddess of a wife, was getting herself off. I was just a means to an end. Her sex toy. And I had never been so aroused in my whole goddamned life.