Page 17

Matthias

I’ve never been jealous of pasta before.

I’ve never wanted to be pasta before.

But here I am. Losing my goddamn mind.

Margot makes the most obscene, sinful, wreck-me noises while eating her damn dinner. Moaning. Sighing. Like she’s being fucked senseless, not eating eggplant parmesan. My cock is so damn hard, I could split a two-by-four.

If this is how she reacts to food, I’m going to make sure she never eats another meal without me. It’s sweet torture. Hearing those noises of pleasure, but not to being the one to cause them.

And then she licks her lip, and I almost come in my pants. That’s my lip to lick . I should be cleaning the sauce from her mouth. I should be the one making her moan like that.

Was she sent to this earth to drive me insane?

I see the moment it clicks for her; what she’s doing to me.

And unlike the women that normally surround me, who would use this to seduce me, she stills.

She turns bright red, mortified. It’s adorable.

Her flushed cheeks, the rosy tint creeping down her neck.

I want to see how far down that blush extends.

But what gets me the most? The way she ducks her head.

She’s not doing this on purpose. She’s not trying to seduce me.

And yet, she is.

Despite her embarrassment, I can see a flicker of something else. Excitement. She likes the effect she has on me. If I were a betting man, I’d put money on some of that flush being from arousal. She’s enjoying this. Even if she won’t admit it.

Two can play this game.

I keep eating with my right hand and place my left on her thigh just above her knee.

The contact electrifies me. Even through the barrier of her sweatpants, her warmth seeps into my palm, shooting straight to my dick.

Margot nearly falls out of her chair.

I grip her leg tighter, steadying her. I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. “Careful, sweetheart. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

Her breath hitches.

She’s reacting to me. To my presence. To my touch.

I sit back and motion to her plate. “Sweetheart, keep eating. Your food’s going to get cold, and Dotty made it just for you.” I pause. “If I have to tell you again, you’re getting punished.”

She gasps.

Her thighs clench.

Interesting.

My sweet girl might not be as innocent as she pretends.

I let her get back into the rhythm of eating before I inch my hand higher.

She freezes.

I grunt a silent remind. She forces herself to move, shoving another bite into her mouth .

I start massaging her thigh.

She keeps eating, but now her breathing comes in quick, uneven pants.

I slide my hand higher.

Inches. Mere inches from where I want to be. I can feel her heat. Even through the sweatpants, her body calls to me.

My cock is aching, throbbing, demanding. My grip on her leg tightens. Not to tease her, but because my own need overwhelms me.

I started touching her to drive her mad. To make her suffer like I’m suffering.

It’s backfiring. The blood in my head is roaring. I can’t hear anything else. Can’t think of anything else. I need her.

And I can see I’m affecting her just as much. She’s completely red. Her chest rises and falls with quick, uneven breaths. Her thighs press together, trapping my hand between them. Inches from her sweet, wet, perfect heat.

I lean in, dropping my voice to a rough whisper. “I’m seconds away from bending you over this table and fucking you, sweetheart.” Her breath catches. “Just say the word.” I nip her earlobe, in a sinful promise.

She shudders. Not just a tremble, her entire body reacts.

For a split second, she leans in.

Not away. In .

Then, like she realizes what she’s doing, she jerks back, eyes wild.

“I can’t–” The words are a breathy whisper, barely there.

Then, before I can blink, she bolts.

She jumps up from her chair and sprints out the door.

I sit there, stunned.

What the fuck just happened?

I’ve never had a woman literally run away from sex with me. Is there something wrong with me?

Impossible. I’m irresistible.

So, what the fuck is wrong with this girl?