Page 70 of Until I Own You

Bridget’s shoulder tense. So microscopic of a movement only I would notice. Because my body, even after one night, is attuned to her like instruments in the same orchestra.

“Promise,” I add with a smile.

“See, he promises.” Solomon gets out of his chair and flocking to my mom’s side. “And if I know one thing, Seth would never break a promise to you, my love.”

He’s right. My mom and I have been through too much for me to fuck with her. And she knows it by now. After my father died, we only had each other. I would never do anything to cross my mother.

Except maybe…with Bridget…

I cast the thought out of my mind and usher my mom and stepfather out of the room. “Now, go on. Puzzle isn’t going to solve itself.”

“You heard the boy! Puzzle time!” Solomon calls out.

Mom can’t resist a laugh at that. She smiles over her shoulder at me as she goes as if to say, “Be good.”

Well, I’ll be good in the way she wants me to be good. My mom doesn’t even know what kind of behavior she needs to anticipate now. Nor will she.

Not if I can help it.

Bridget has already started scrubbing the dishes, the sink full to the brim with suds and water.

I wait a moment to see if she’ll look back at me. She doesn’t.

So, I sneak in beside her. “I’ll dry.” I take a dish rag off the counter.

“You don’t have to do that.” She finishes scrubbing the most recent dish.

I swoop in and grab the plate before she can keep me from helping, then run the rag around the dish until it is warm and dry to the touch.

We go through the process of washing and drying. Over and over. Neither of us speaking.

Each moment that passes, I grow harder. Watching her pale hands growing red with the heat of the water, eyeing her neck covered by her dark hair where I want to lay a thousand marks with my teeth, wishing I could kiss her plump, pink lips.

When Bridget holds out the last dish to me, she smiles, a gentle and shy smile.

Fuck it.

I ignore the plate and grab her wrist instead, causing her to drop the plate back into the soapy water. Then, with my other hand on her slim waist, I press her up against the counter, kissing her fiercely.

Bridget squeaks into my mouth.

I pour my weight into her, make her feel my hardness, and relish the exhale from her nose as she kisses me back and wraps her hand around the back of my head, begging for more.

God, I adore her.

I rip my lips from her mouth, my forehead remaining pressed to hers thanks to her tight grip on the back of my head. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

Bridget trembles beneath me.

I put my hands on the sink, framing her hips. “I would take you right fucking here if I–”

“You can’t.” Her eyes grow wide.

I chuckle low. “Don’t be scared. I’m not going to. Not here.” I lean into her, snag her ear lobe between my teeth and pull.

Bridget clings to my back, nails digging into my shoulders, repressing a moan in her throat.

I cup the front of her throat, running my thumb across the thin blue choker.

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