Page 120 of Off Limits: The Firsts

It sounds so simple yet stupid, but Hunter knows how to touch a woman. My body remembers.

Because I’ve missed it.

His touch.

Him.

Touch me.

I stroke my hand up him and rub my thumb over the crest of his cock.

Want me.

The nails of my other hand score down his back through his shirt.

Take me.

The ding of the elevator shocks me to my senses, and the way that Hunter jolts back, has me looking toward the door in fear of being caught by a guest.

When I look back to him, he’s tucking himself back into his pants, and the smirk on his lips is almost as taunting as his words. “Now you’ll know how it feels. Now you know what it’s like to watch me walk away.” His chuckle is low.

“What?” I look up to meet his eyes, curious and darkened with desire neither of us can deny.

“Good night, Dekker. It was good to see you again.”

When he strides out of the elevator, I stare after him with shock etched in every muscle of my body.

That shock morphs to embarrassment. The embarrassment churns to anger. That anger fuels self-loathing.

The dig is real, and the sting from it hits harder than it should.

But I caused this. He kissed me, yet I overstepped every damn line there is.

You almost just gave him a blowjob in the elevator.

I didn’t, but my mind was there. The want was there. The goddamn urge was there.

I let the door close. I let the car ride to my floor. I let the doors open. All the while my mind reels, and my temper simmers from the utter mortification of what I just did.

Each step I take toward my room is emphasized by my thoughts.

How could I be so unprofessional?

Step.

How could I let him play me like that?

Step.

How could I let those unrequited everythings I feel when it comes to him resurface?

Step.

How could I be so weak?

Even worse, how can I stand here trying to put my key card in the door and question how I’m going to carry out my dad’s professional wishes when they clash with my personal desires?

This is bad.