Page 18 of Anger Bang
Was she ready for him to deliver? As if anyone could on those kinds of sinful promises. But still, she couldn’t help but hope like hell that he really would.
“Yes,” she said.
In the next breath, she was in the air, one of Kade’s arms around the small of her back and the other behind her knees as he carried her in a fireman’s hold over to one of the lounge chairs by the firepit. Her body was trying to regain her equilibrium, but her brain had speeded ahead into speculation mode.
Was he a firefighter? That would explain the smooth-skinned burn scar she’d felt on the back of his strong hand when she’d tried to move it up her thigh earlier.
Not that it mattered.
Not that she wanted to know.
Not that she could stop thinking about it, him, them, or this ridiculous plan of hers.
Her mind spun, racing toward the possible outcomes of this one rash decision. There were so many. Her mom’s disappointed reaction. Her sister’s fury. The fallout that would come from her boss at the museum when he found out about the live stream—and he would find out. All of the negative results built one on top of another in her mind like a fast-paced game of Tetris, and she couldn’t keep up. Her rushed breathing and the way her heart started beating faster and faster had her feeling like she was going to jump out of her skin.
“Thea,” Kade said, pulling her out of the overthinking hell she’d put herself in as they sat down on the lounge chair with her on his lap, his arms loosely holding her in place. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
There it was, that word again. Somewhere, she was sure Dr. Kowecki shivered as if a ghost had walked over her grave.
“You don’t seem fine.” He looked down at her, his eyes narrowing. “You look like you’re about to sprint to Mars.”
“I’m. Fine.”
He scooped her up off his lap and plopped her onto the lounge chair’s pale blue cushion as far as she could get from him as he sat on the end.
“Nope.” He picked up her foot and pulled off the Keds she’d been wearing, taking her foot in his warm, strong hands. “You’re not.”
She would have argued, but that’s when his thumb pressed against the top of her arch and she couldn’t stop the moan of pleasure that came out instead of her protestations.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking my time.”
A what-the-fuck-is-going-on giggle escaped. “This is all part of slow orgasms one-oh-one?”
“Something like that.”
Her eyes fluttered shut along with her mouth as he rubbed her foot, the pressure—hard in some places and a feather-soft touch in others—unwinding all of the tension that had balled up inside her as her brain went wild with one thought after another. By the time he tugged off her other shoe, she was beyond pliant. She was goo—straight-up, blissed-out goo. Oh, her brain was still trying to do its thing, throwing out intrusive thoughts like poisoned darts, but they fizzled into the ether before hitting their mark.
“I shouldn’t like this so much,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m being lazy, just taking.”
“And you think that makes you selfish?”
How she managed the energy to nod, she had no idea, but she did just the slightest bit.
“Maybe watching is what really turns me on,” he said, his voice low and growly. “Maybe seeing you get all hot and then all melty and then turning up the heat again is what makes my cock so fucking hard.”
Suddenly, the heat coming from the small, contained blaze in the pit felt like a firestorm. The images this man could paint in her head—it really wasn’t fair. He had tapped into some level of lust she hadn’t realized was there but damn did it feel good.
“Is that really what turns you on?” she asked before she could stop herself, because she was desperate to know the answer.
“Partly.” He switched to her other foot and went to work easing all of the tension she hadn’t even realized was balled up in the arch of her foot and the base of her toes and along the side of her heel.
