Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
He turns and looks at me, his face inches from mine, his hot breath tickling my face.
His eyes widen, as though he’s shocked at himself.
I can’t help but make a soft whimpering noise as he tightens his grip, the sensation writhing up and down my thigh, teasing at my sex. He squeezes even harder, causing me to moan again.
With a jolt, he returns to his seat.
He smiles at me like a family friend would, making me wonder if I imagined it, his hand on my leg, the intensity in his eyes.
“Good luck with the podcast,” he says with superficial friendliness.
What the hell?
Was that all in my head?
“Thank you,” I murmur, climbing from the car, wondering if my obsession has graduated to full-fledged delusion.
CHAPTER FOUR
Bryson
The helm of my cock pushes hungrily against my pants, my breath coming fast as I drive through the city, heading for my hotel.
I didn’t plan on grabbing her leg like that.
It’s like my body is a vehicle like this car. My primal need moves from the driver’s to the passenger seat… just for a few seconds—enough to indulge in the thickness of her thighs, more tempting and compelling than I imagined.
On the West Coast, I could… not forget, but stifle my urges and bury them.
Something snapped right there with my woman, with Harper.
I squeezed her thigh, and she made that horny moaning noise.
Or maybe it was something else. The shock that a family friend would do this, a man she’s known since she was a kid.
Fuck, what have I done?
I crossed a line and pretended it never happened, which is cruel.
It was lust, a carnal voice roars inside of me. Stop pretending. You know that moan was lust. She wanted it.
My balls swell, getting to the bursting point.
I haven’t pleasured myself in months. Yet, I can’t do it without thinking about Harper, without picturing my hands on her pants, pulling them down to reveal inch after inch of creamy, thick flesh.
Each time, the guilt slams into me like a hammer’s blow.
I replay the moment over and over, staring into her eyes, squeezing down, the moan… the beautiful, intoxicating moan.
All that talk about unrequited love made me think of Harper with another man. The thought is unacceptable. No other man gets to touch her, to kiss her, to squeeze her juicy thigh like I did. No other man gets to be close to her.
To smell her perfume and just her scent… I feel it expand inside until I’m so consumed I can’t stop myself from touching her.
Back in the hotel room, I quickly change into workout gear. I don’t trust myself to be alone. I rush to the gym, throwing myself into a hellish workout, heavy metal blasting in my ears.
I enjoy all kinds of music, and heavy metal was my friend during medical school, but I don’t play it for pleasure today. I play it to block out the recurring thought, the phantom sensation of her thigh against my palm, making me wish I’d slid higher and higher and pushed down between her legs.
Would her moan have been sweeter then?
As I increase the effort on the rowing machine, I picture Adam, imagining what he’d say if he knew.
Harper might tell him.
If that happens, I’ll accept whatever comes. I won’t scurry around trying to hide my mistake.
Mistake? The hunger howls within. She wanted it.
I work out for ninety minutes, but it does nothing to block Harper from my mind. The blood rushing through my body causes more need for me. Every second, I try not to think of how juicy her thigh felt, try not to imagine her without the tights on as my fingers sink into her flesh.
“Excuse me,” a woman calls as I head for the water fountain.
A blond-haired woman with a full face of makeup walks by. It saddens me when I see women wearing all that covering in the gym as if their need to hide their faces is greater than their desire to get a proper workout in.
But it’s not my place to judge.
She folds her arms, pouting up at me. I wonder if it’s supposed to seem sexy.
This has happened a few times, women approaching me, but all I do is superimpose Harper over them.
“Yeah?” I say.
“You didn’t wipe down the machine.”
Normally, I do this without fail, but thoughts of Harper were consuming me too fiercely.
“My bad. I’ll do it now.”
“Don’t worry.” The woman steps forward, tilting her head. “I don’t mind…”
I can see where this is headed. This woman is traditionally attractive. Other men would want her, with her gym-honed body, but she stirs nothing in me, not even the tiniest flicker.
I think about Harper’s fullness, her thighs, and the moan she let go when I squeezed down.
“It’s fine,” I say firmly.
The woman scowls as I grab the spray and paper towels. I feel her eyes on me the entire way out of the gym.