Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I find her thigh, give it a squeeze, and she shifts in the seat toward me. I move my hand higher and she breaks the kiss to breathe and her forehead drops to mine.
“Locke—”
“Yeah…” I know what she’s saying and she doesn’t have to finish it.
My hand moves and she grabs my wrist—not to stop me, I feel the difference—just to anchor herself, and then I find what I’m looking for through the denim. Livia gasps as I pop the button on her jeans. Before she can think about stopping me, I slide my hand inside and she lifts her hips to accommodate. I move past the waistband of her underwear and find her wet and warm and so ready that an unplanned sound comes out of me.
“Oh God,” she moans, and a bolt of pure lust drives through me.
“So wet,” I murmur as I find her clit with two fingers. Livia’s head falls back against the headrest and she grabs my wrist with both hands, holding on. I work her slowly, feeling exactly what she responds to, cataloging it the way I catalog everything that matters, and she’s making small sounds into my shoulder that are going to be burned into my memory.
“This is—” she starts.
“Yeah,” I say.
She stops trying to talk.
I slide one finger inside her, keep my thumb on her clit, and feel her clench around me tightly. Her hips roll forward, chasing the friction, and whatever composure she had left when she got in this car is completely and entirely gone. I work her steadily, pressure and rhythm, until her breathing comes apart and her fingers dig into my wrist. She says my name—this time a groan of pure pleasure before she goes rigid and shudders and clenches hard around my finger as an orgasm moves through her.
I don’t stop until she stills.
I lift my head and look at her.
Her eyes are closed. Her chest is rising and falling in uneven intervals. The silk blouse is slightly twisted. Every careful, composed, professional thing about her has been dismantled and I wasn’t prepared for how badly I want what’s underneath.
She opens her eyes.
I hold her gaze while I slowly withdraw my hand, and the look on her face is to stay with me forever.
“I’m taking you home,” I say.
She nods, which is the most acquiescence I’ve ever seen from her.
It’s utter silence as I drive her home. The only words she gives me are her address, which I put into the navigation. She keeps her eyes out the passenger window and I wonder if she’s swallowed in guilt.
I know I’m not.
The city moves past, Portland at midnight with wet streets and neon reflections on the pavement.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” she says finally.
“Which part?”
“Any of it.”
“And yet.”
“Locke.” She turns to look at me. The composure is back, reassembled, but I know what’s underneath it now and that knowledge is not going anywhere. “This has to stop.”
“Does it?”
“You know it does. I have a job to do. You have—”
“I’ll be in your office tomorrow,” I say, needing to assuage some of that guilt I know she’s swimming in. I need her to remember that she gets more than an orgasm. “The family session. Like I said.”
She’s quiet.
“We had a bargain, remember?”
“I remember,” she murmurs pensively. “But you were supposed to get a boon in return for the session. What do you want?”
“I got what I wanted,” I say truthfully.
My eyes move to hers and she stares at me in shock. Yeah… I totally got what I wanted, and even if I want more, it’s not going to be tonight.
“We’re here,” I say.
I pull up in front of her building and put it in park.
She sits quietly. I can feel the gears in her brain turning—cataloging, processing, trying to find the professional framework and put it back in place over everything that just happened.
“Tomorrow, then,” she says finally, and I’m relieved she’s not inviting me up. I’d go without question or reservation, but it’s best for her if we don’t.
“Tomorrow,” I confirm.
She gets out and I watch until she’s safely inside.
I pull away from the curb and drive home through the wet Portland streets. I don’t turn on the radio but rather relive all the sexy sounds she made in my car as I fingered her.
I think about it the entire drive home and I know I’ll be thinking about it for days to come.
Chapter 17
Locke
She’s moved the furniture.
I notice it the second I walk through the door because it’s so obvious that she constructed a scene. The two chairs that normally sit side by side across her desk are now in the opposite corner facing each other. Just two chairs and the space between them waiting to be filled. Her desk is pushed to the side like it doesn’t exist today.