Page 11 of Redemption (Favorite Malady Duet #2)

I bite my tongue to hold back a hungry growl. The small rumble that manages to escape is mercifully smothered by the creaking of her aged mattress springs when she gets into bed.

Naked.

Right above me.

Her hand appears, fumbling at the floor just to the right of my head. I crane my neck to the side, and her long fingers nearly brush my hair before she feels the familiar shape of her laptop.

She picks it up, and the computer disappears along with her hand.

Damn it.

This can’t be happening. I’m going to have to listen to her typing whatever it is that absorbs her so completely, and I still won’t have a clue what she’s writing.

Within seconds, I hear the rapid tapping of her fingertips on the keyboard, but I remain completely ignorant. She’s probably typing in her password, but there’s no way to discern a pattern.

A few soft clicks. More tapping.

Faster now.

She blows out a long sigh, as though she’s purging physical tension through her dainty fingers. The mattress shifts above me. She must be moving into a more comfortable position.

It shifts again.

The aged springs must be causing her discomfort, because she seems to be practically squirming in her sheets.

And still, she keeps typing.

Another sigh. Another shift.

My teeth are locked hard enough to make my jaw ache. A realization is dawning, but I don’t want to acknowledge it.

My cock already seems to know exactly what’s happening because it’s painfully stiff in the confines of my jeans.

Then she stops typing, and her low moan flushes the humid air with erotic heat. The movement of the mattress is undulating now, a regular, rolling rhythm.

No.

This can’t be happening. The woman I’ve been lusting after for weeks is masturbating directly above me while I hide under her bed.

For an insane moment, I consider joining her on the bed.

I could pin her down and clamp my hand over her mouth to muffle her pretty scream.

She’d fight, but my other hand around her throat would be enough to subdue her.

Those remarkable, aquamarine eyes would shine with tears even as they soften at the edge of losing consciousness.

She doesn’t breathe unless I allow it. She doesn’t speak unless it’s to moan my name.

“Dane…”

My entire body locks up tight.

My dark fantasy of our mutual, twisted pleasure is all too visceral. I can’t give in to temptation. She’s not ready to accept me like that yet.

“Dane…”

It takes me several racing heartbeats to process the fact that I didn’t just imagine her moaning my name.

Jesus Christ.

She’s thinking about me while she pleasures herself.

She’ll barely look at me when I’m at the café, but some part of her must remember our intense connection.

Abigail wants me.

My fist unfurls, and my fingers fumble at my belt. It’s as though some irresistible compulsion has taken hold of my body, and even as I know this is madness, I free my aching cock. My sharp intake of breath is masked by her rapid panting and the squeaking of her mattress springs.

Pleasure shudders down my spine, and I bite the inside of my cheek to hold in a primal snarl of frustration and desire.

I should be inside her right now. The tight sheath of her cunt should be squeezing my dick, not my own fist. She should be weeping and begging me for release.

“Dane!”

She cries out my name, and for the first time in my life, I lose control of my body entirely. Ecstasy overtakes me in a vicious wave, dragging me to completion against my will. Cum sears my hand, and my cheeks heat with pleasure and a hint of shame.

Unease twists my gut as I crash back down from my cruel high. The power this fragile woman holds over me isn’t just thrilling; it’s shaking my entire worldview.

I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath at the same time as she sighs in contentment.

Abigail will pay for this. She’ll crawl to me on her hands and knees and apologize with her mouth. Only when I’m satisfied that she’s thoroughly humbled and completely desperate for me, I’ll finally allow her the mercy of an orgasm.

The savage thought is almost hot enough to stir my lust again, but for now, I’m spent.

The mattress dips, and her hand appears again as she returns her laptop to its place beneath her bed.

My mind whirs. I have to know what she was writing that got her so aroused. For weeks, I’ve watched her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink while she’s typing. Now I know for sure that she’s getting herself off with whatever it is that she writes.

Does she write about me? Is that why she moaned my name?

I formulate a daring plan to discover her secrets. I’ve risked breaking into her apartment once. I can do it again.

After I borrow her laptop for the day.

Someone in Charleston will know how to unlock it without her password. My money will ensure that any qualms about hacking will be alleviated.

Then I can return the infuriating device to her bedroom, and she’ll never know it was missing.

Satisfied with my course of action, I finally allow myself to relax. As I listen to the sound of her deep, even breaths, I follow Abigail into sleep.