Page 10 of Forbidden Hunger

“Daddy! I was just teasing … but I won’t say no. Thank you!”

She throws her arms around him and kisses his cheek, then starts programming both phones at once. I steel my spine and meet Mr. Drake’s eyes. “Could I speak to you in your office, please?”

He follows me without a word, shutting the door behind us. I lace my fingers together and get right to the point. “I can’t accept these things.”

Mr. Drake’s jaw firms. He folds his arms. “Yes, you can.”

Damn. He’s hot when he’s bossy. With an effort, I pull myself together. “It’s very kind of you. But really, I can’t.”

He doubles down on the bossiness. “I’m not returning them.”

“I don’t want your pity!”

It bursts out of me, more temper than pain. His eyes snap back at me. “It has nothing to do with pity.”

I throw my arms out. “Then what?”

“To make you happy.” His voice lowers, comes out in a rumbling whisper. “I wanted to make you happy.”

Our eyes lock. The air goes electric. I can’t breathe, can’t look away.

I wanted to make you happy. We’re only a few inches apart, and I’ve never seen this look in a man’s eyes before, but I think I know what it means.

He wants to kiss me.

I want him to kiss me.

His head lowers … and Eden bursts through the door.

“Can we eat? I’m starving.” She hands me my phone. “I’ve got everything programmed in except for your parents’ numbers. You’re on our family plan.”

I don’t dare look at him as we go back out to the kitchen. Mr. Drake. Ashton.

I’m ninety percent positive he almost kissed me just now. Would have, if Eden hadn’t interrupted.

Dinner passes in a daze. Afterwards, when Eden wants to watch tv, I plead fatigue and go to my bedroom. Carefully, I hang up some clothes, fold other items and put them in drawers, slide the shoes into the appropriate storage slots.

The bags and boxes I gather up and leave by the door. Only then do I allow myself to climb under the covers in one of my new pairs of pajamas (also purple).

My desire was simply to be alone, to think, but my body has other plans.

My hand, all on its own, slips inside my pajama bottoms. I trace one finger over my crease, rubbing it through the silky material of my panties. “Ashton,” I whisper.

I pretend it’s him touching me. My eyes close, my finger moving up to circle my clit, then back down to stroke over my pussy. I bite my lip, and my hips lift, inviting my imaginary lover inside.

Now my hand delves inside my panties, my fingers parting my folds. I’m wet, and I draw the slickness up and over my clit. “Ashton,” I moan softly.

In my mind, he’s kissing me, touching me, his body covering mine. Sensation spirals up inside me, swirling in my core, growing stronger, swelling outward.

“Ashton!” I rub directly over my clit, and the spark ignites my whole body. I tense, my hips jerking as the climax crashes over me in waves, curling my toes, making my nipples go hard.

When it ebbs, I feel the shame. I roll on my side and curl up, as if hiding from what I’ve done. If Eden knew … she’d never forgive me.

Maybe Ashton really was going to kiss me – but it’s good that he didn’t, no matter how much I wanted him to. Eden would never understand. I know he doesn’t want to hurt her, and neither do I.

Even if he did want me, we could never be together.

Resolving once again to forget all about my feelings for him, I close my eyes and will myself to sleep.

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