Page 74 of Undeniably Corrupt

His closet is a monochromatic symphony of black with touches of gray and white. All of his clothes are practical yet expensive. My fingers run along a super soft tee he has neatly folded, and I strip off my old, ratty one and pull his over my head. The fabric drops to my mid-thighs, and I luxuriate in being wrapped in all things Vander and smile at my theft.

Except when I turn, I find him standing there in his closet doorway, his hair and clothes wet from the sleet and his expression serious.

Shit. Busted.

And I didn’t even get a chance to explore his bathroom or nightstand drawer. That’s a shame.

“Hi,” I squeak.

He stares at me, taking me in inch by inch, wearing only his T-shirt, and I wonder if he saw me strip out of mine and climb into his. “What are you doing in here?”

“Um. Honestly? Snooping.”

“And stealing.” He steps into the closet until his fingers graze my thigh, and he tugs on the bottom of his shirt I’m wearing.

“It’s softer than mine.” And it smells like you.

My problem? I don’t want to want Vander. I don’t. I think we’ve already established all the ways he’s bad for me. But thatdoesn’t mean I don’t want him anyway. Those orgasms he gave me?Hell. And the way he looks at me sometimes—like right now—makes me feel like it’s the same for him. And not because he got me off, and I got him off too.

But because hewantsme.

“It looks better on you.” He swallows and drags a hand through the blond hair that’s wetly flopped to his forehead.

“I didn’t think you’d be home tonight.” Because you never are.

“I finished what I had to do.”

“What was her name?” I quip, my lips curling into a teasing smile.

He steps forward, walking straight to me and forcing me back up against the far wall of his giant closet. “Whose name?”

“The woman you’re finished with.”

He captures my wrists in his hands and thrusts them over my head, dragging the hem of the shirt up and making my tits stand out toward him.

His nose glides along mine. “That’s sort of been my problem,” he murmurs, his hot breath against my lips. “I thought I was finished with her years ago, but she seems to be everywhere now, back under my skin, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

My breath hitches, my body flooding with heat. “You need something to help get her out of your system.”

“I tried that. I tasted her in a garage and made her come on my desk, thinking that would help.”

“And did it?”

He shakes his head, some of the wetness from his hair dripping on my face and rolling down my cheek and neck, making me shiver.

“Maybe you need to try something else?”

“Maybe.” He shifts my wrists to one hand and uses his other to run along my side from my upper thigh to the top ofmy ribcage and the side of my breast, his thumb grazing the swell.

“What does that for you? What gets someone out of your system?”

He nips at my jaw, and I shudder when I feel his thumb brushes my nipple. “I don’t know. I’ve never experienced this before. She’s the only one I’ve ever had this problem with.”

I swallow audibly and stare straight into his green eyes, about to ask a question that will change everything for me. For us. “Is that true?”

He doesn’t reply, just continues staring intently at me.

“What is it you need?”