Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I still don’t move. That thrill’s still in my guts. And there’s the real problem with me.
I’m impulsive to the point of recklessness at the best of times, and I’m not working at peak capacity right now.
“Screw it,” I mutter and rip off my top. I’m wearing a simple black tank, a sports bra, black running tights, and a pair of black panties. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on my skin. I jogged over here as a cover for my long absence this afternoon.
“There you go. That’s a good girl.”
Holy fuck. I shiver at that voice. I’ve never been called a good girl like that before in my life. His voice drips with sin and promise.
I quickly pull the shirt on and start to button it, but he clucks his tongue with disapproval.
“Bottoms too, my thief. Wear it like a dress.”
“You’re getting a little too demanding,” I say through my teeth.
“Should I call the police then? Or maybe I should skip all that and go straight to Liam?”
That fucker. He’s got to be bluffing. But I like that he’s being so damn assertive. My jaw works with frustration as I kick off my running shoes. I’m burning with embarrassment and tingling from pure sexual excitement as I peel off the tights and toss them aside.
“Happy now?” I ask, glaring everywhere at once, not sure where I’m supposed to look.
The shirt hits me mid-thigh. It’s baggy on top, and if I weren’t wearing a bra, he’d be getting a nice little show. I can smell him even stronger now, the scent sending little wafts of excitement into my core.
Something beeps in the ceiling. I blink and realize it’s a single red LED. The camera descends from a recessed container that blends perfectly with the paint job and swivels to stare at me.
“Spin,” he says. “Let me look at my future wife.”
“Fucking prick,” I mutter, but I do as he says. The shirt’s big, but I feel totally exposed. I despise following orders, but given the situation, the fact that he’s staring at me and sounds as though he likes it, I’m shaking with pure arousal.
Breaking rules always gets my blood pumping, and this is messed up on so many levels.
“Are you happy now?” I ask, breathing fast.
“You look beautiful, Riley, wearing my shirt. If I were there, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. Fuck, you don’t know how hard you’re making me right now.”
Holy shit.
That velvet voice is like honey in my ears. I can almost feel his hot breath on my neck. It sounds like he’s whispering right into my head, and I feel dizzy with excitement. The rush of this is driving me crazy. I’m breaking so many rules and crossing a ton of lines, and I absolutely love it.
This is what I live for.
Passion. Excitement. Danger.
Everything a sweet little McGrath girl should never, ever want.
“You like this?” I ask, feeling a devilish thrill. Two paths fork in front of me. I can take the right path, apologize profusely again, hope he doesn’t tell anyone, and get the hell out of here.
Or I can take the left path and find out where this little game is going.
Without thinking about it, because all my biggest mistakes are total failures of impulse control, I reach inside the shirt, peel the sports bra off my shoulders, twist out my arms, and yank it down. When I step out, I kick it aside, then reach up and slip off my panties too.
Which leaves me entirely naked beneath the big, white shirt.
Guess I took the wrong path.
My nipples are so hard. I’m aware they’re showing, and he can probably see through the fabric if he looks close enough. The right one is particularly sensitive ever since I got it pierced, and it sends little pings of pleasure into my core every time I move. I’m dripping wet, damp against my thighs, and trembling with arousal. I don’t even know why—I’m not even totally sure what this guy looks like. All I’ve seen are a few grainy photos of a big, dark-haired man with a stoic look and a chiseled jaw.
“Now you’re teasing me, Riley,” he whispers, the bass rumbling down my spine. “You look fucking good in nothing but my shirt. Like I’ve already claimed you.”
“Is that what you want? To claim me?” I ask, chewing my lip. I’m shaking with anticipation. “Tell me how you’d do it.”
“Get on my bed.” His voice is pure command. I release a whimper, shocked by how turned on it gets me. Bossy assholes are basically everything I hate in the world, except for right now, it totally works.
The bed is big and comfortable, and I crawl up the neatly made comforter, messing it up a bit as I lean back on the fluffy pillows.