I feel like a newborn colt, all untrained muscles and uncoordinated limbs. Which is probably why Sebastián takes a step back, watching my struggle to remain upright beneath the intensity of his green, hooded gaze.
He wants me off balance. Wants me to leave the woman I am at work behind.
“Strip.” The word is a command. But with Sebastián at arm’s length, I am no longer held captive by his kisses or his touch. I could pick my shirt up off the floor and walk straight out his door.
I consider it. Strongly.
If the man in front of me was anyone other than Sebastián Cruz, I would already be naked.
Don’t shit where you eat.
Don’t fuck where you work.
They are rules for a reason.
And I very badly want to break one of them.
Slowly, my hands slide along my skirt, moving to the back of my waist. It takes several attempts to unclasp the hook and eye closure, but I manage it. Then the zipper. It makes a low, mournful sound, as if voicing its displeasure at my current circumstance.
But it finally drops to my feet and I kick it aside. Sebastián’s gaze rakes down my body, and I tremble self-consciously. I am wearing a La Perla bra and panty set made of the thinnest black lace. My breasts fill out the cups but they do not overflow them. The sides of the panties are cut high, but my hips don’t curve nearly as much as I wish they would.
Sebastián drinks me in as his long fingers work the button at his neck, his dark gaze gleaming with lust. “Keep going,” he says, his voice tight.
Good. At least I am not the one operating outside of my comfort zone. And although I am no playboy model, I am relieved by Sebastián’s obvious appreciation of my appearance.
As I take off my bra and shimmy out of my panties, Sebastián shrugs off his jacket and unclasps his cufflinks, folding the sleeves of his shirt back to reveal thick, tanned forearms.
My mouth goes dry. I am a sucker for arm porn.
And Sebastián has the best I?
??ve ever seen.
I am just about to slip out of my Manolo Blaniks when he says. “Leave the shoes on.” Another command.
Heat is building in my core, spiraling up from between my legs and wrapping around my ribcage, drawing tighter with every passing moment. My breaths are now just shallow pants that echo inside my ears.
Naked, I shift from one stiletto-clad foot to the other. I haven’t uttered a single word since I was silenced by Sebastián’s hand around my throat. Seconds tick by as I remain enslaved to his stare.
Finally, he walks back to me. Coming so close that we are toe to toe. And in my five-inch heels, we are nearly eye to eye. Without any warning, Sebastián’s hand glides along the inside of my thigh until his palm cups my heat. A low whimper builds up in my chest, leaking out in the quiet foyer of his apartment.
“Fuck, Finely. You’re burning up.” A finger swipes through my slit and Sebastián chuckles as my wetness leaks out. “I’ll bet very few people have seen the fire that burns beneath your all-business facade.”
I don’t answer. Not because I don’t want to. But because I am utterly incapable of words. One finger has become two, and they are gliding over my clit in hard, determined strokes.
My legs begin to quiver, my eyes closing as my head rolls back against the wall.
And then, Sebastián stops. A desperate cry is wrenched from my mouth, only to be cut off by Sebastián’s fingers. The very same ones that were inside of me.
“Suck.”
I do. I taste myself. I taste the basest of all desires. Lust.
I am filled with it. Overcome by it.
Lust is surging inside my veins, swelling inside my lungs. Lust is clouding my thoughts, stealing my doubts.
And when Sebastián falls to his knees at my feet, throwing first one leg over his shoulder then the other, lust is joined by something else. Something entirely unfamiliar.