Is she fucking kidding me?
My cock is throbbing so hard, I feel like it’s going to burst through my pants and go soaring through the air. And now she’s telling me not to look?
I give her a pleading look. Who knows how pathetic I probably look right now?
“No!” She waves her little finger at me as if she’s scolding a little boy. “I’m changing. Be a gentleman, and turn around, please.”
I throw my hands up, surrendering, and turn around. As I stare at the wall, I can see her figure through the reflection in the microwave door. I see her body all transparent—but clearly visible. All her curves, her perky tits and ass.
I grip the counter—again—not knowing how much more I can take.
Without waiting for her permission, I turn around and see her buttoning up the shirt. It’s oversized on her and makes her look fucking hot. She actually looks hotter in my shirt than she did in that loose-fitting dress.
“You should wear my clothes more often.”
She smiles and continues buttoning up her shirt. “I told you not to look.”
I shrug. “I guess I couldn’t help myself.”
“Well that’s not very gentlemanly of you, is it?”
&nbs
p; I walk up to her and place my hand on her face, admiring her. My fingertips brush against her mouth as she seductively licks my thumb. “I never said I was a gentleman.”
I grab her around the waist and pull her close, my pulsing cock rubbing up against her, and I know she can feel all twelve inches of me.
She smells like a stale mixture of fruity perfume and champagne. It’s that salty aroma you smell in the morning, and it lingers and seeps into your clothes like smoke. I inhale her, rubbing my face along her hair. She’s delicious—and now, I want a taste.
She has her palms raised and placed on my shoulders, as if she’s trying to push me away. Although if she’s trying to, she’s doing a shitty job of it.
I can feel her panting as she grips my shoulders, bunching my shirt into her hands.
I reach down and feel a slight wetness outside my pants. Fuck, I’m seriously about to explode. I don’t know if I can hold it any longer.
Suddenly, Mira pushes against me, weaseling out of my grip.
“I better go,” she stutters as she awkwardly maneuvers around me. I look up at her, frozen with shock with the worst case of blue balls.
“Yeah, sure.” I try to play it off as if I don’t care, although I clearly do. All she has to do is look down at my still-hard dick to see how badly I want to continue.
I hand her one of my blazers for her to wear over her shirt. She puts it on and straps on her stilettos. I’m surprised how put together the whole outfit looks, as if she really did come here already in those clothes and not that tit-show of a dress.
She grabs her clutch as she stands in front of me. I stare through her clothes, thinking of how exposed she was in the kitchen just moments before.
I know we both made a promise to each other, but how the hell are we supposed to stay loyal to that when we clearly want to fuck each other’s brains out? There were lots of girls at that wedding; I didn’t have to choose her.
And yet why is it that she’s all that I want?
Fuck me.
We both walk to the front door and brace ourselves. What’s waiting on the other side is a medley of bullshit I’m not sure either of us are ready for.
Chapter 12
Mira
“Here we go. Stay close to me,” Owen says.