Page 41 of Secret Obsession
You’re not getting turned on by this.
“Why?” I ask.
He goes back to rubbing it. Squeezing. It stings a bit, a residual of himspankingme like a child.
“Every time you sit down, I want you to think of this moment.” He moves behind me, and suddenly his teeth are on my ass cheek. He grips my hips hard, keeping me from escaping. “And if you ever sit on my brother’s lap again, I’ll spank you so hard, you won’t be able towalkwithout thinking about me.”
Fuck.
He inhales, and I go completely still.
“Well, well…” He runs his finger down, slipping under the hem of my thong. The thong that’s doing very little to hide my arousal.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss.
He hums, but he withdraws. He pulls my jeans back up and reaches around me, doing up the zipper and button easily. His chest is pressed to my back. Can he feel my heart pounding?
“Go home,” he finally says.
Shock flickers through me. I turn around carefully, my ass stinging. He’s right—I doubt I’ll be able to sit down tomorrow without remembering this.
Asshole.
His nose has stopped bleeding, and the blood is smeared across his face like he haphazardly swiped at it. Other than that, he looks like he might have a bruise on his cheek that’ll match mine when it darkens.
My gaze drops, and I suck in a shocked breath.
He’s hard. His erection tents his jeans, pointing at me.
I inch past him, but he doesn’t make a grab for me, or… anything. I just know that this turned him on as much as it did me, and we both got caught in it. I snatch my laptop, which I set on the floor by the door, and hurry up the stairs.
And all the way home.
13
WILLOW
Fridays are for fun, and partying, andnothockey.
I only had my Crime Fiction class today, which wasfun. And now we’re getting into thepartyingmode. And by we, I mean me. Because Violet’s going to the game. Greyson would freak out if she didn’t. Something about being his lucky charm—gag—and also, we all know what happened the last time she missed a game.
Anyway.
I’m putting the finishing touches of my makeup on, blasting theMoulin RougeBroadway soundtrack and sipping the cocktail I made myself, when my phone rings.
Since it never rings, and since it’s subsequently stopped my music, I hurry to answer it.
“Let us in,” Violet says. “It’s cold out here.”
I raise my eyebrow, but I’m not about to argue. I agree and slide my feet into slippers, hurrying downstairs to open the main door for them. If I lived in a fancy brownstone apartment, I’d be able to buzz them in. As it is, this door has manual locks only, and a keycode I was supposed to keep to myself. Although I guess Miles doesn’t count.
The first-floor apartment door cracks open, and my landlord sticks her head out.
“All good, Willow?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I respond, ushering Violet and Aspen past me. “Have a good night.”
Once we’re in my apartment, I look between them. They’re both fully decked out in hockey gear. In fact, both are sporting their guys’ jerseys.
