Page 187 of Caterina
His gaze drops to my hands as I run my fingers through my hair. The air between us changes.
It does that so easily now.
One look, one breath, one memory.
This afternoon comes back in vivid detail. His hand around my wrists, in my hair, holding me hostage. My body bent over the desk. The cool wood pressed against my breasts. His mouth between my thighs, ravaging me. His voice in my ear, rough and filthy, telling me to take what I asked for, as he presses that big cock deep inside me.
My thighs rub together as my pussy clenches at the memory.
My panties are getting wet.
Adrian’s eyes sharpen as if he can read every thought on my face.
He probably can.
That is deeply inconvenient.
“You promised you’d be good,” he says softly. That voice of his is low and rough, and I remember it just how it felt against my thigh.
My breath hitches.
“‘Good’ can be very subjective,” I manage to say.
A slow smile finally spreads across his face, and oh, it’s a beautiful thing.
“It can be,” he agrees.
I have to bite back a whimper.
"But not tonight," he continues.
I have to get out of this bathroom.
I have to get dressed.
Or I might do something very, very bad.
I grab my lipstick and fumble it open.
“Go away.” I look at him in the mirror, and my pulse is suddenly loud in my ears. “Dinner is in less than an hour.”
“I’m aware.”
“People are coming.”
“I know.”
“You should be downstairs securing things.”
“I did,” he says silkily.
“Then you should go do it again.”
“I will.”
But he does not move.
Neither do I.
