Page 44 of Player For Hire

Me, Naomi Taylor, had been crazy in lust.

That, above all, was a lesson to be thankful for right now.

CHAPTER 13

COLDER

I took out a shirt and slammed the drawer of my dresser. I definitely hadn’t been expecting any of that today.

I swear to God, I’d come so hard my brain was scrambled.

Then she’d asked me that question. What the hell had possessed me to actually answer her? And honestly no less.

I couldn’t remember a time when I’d actually gotten so feral.

I’d had hot hookups, but they were usually sweatier and a little chaotic.

Not like this.

Not where I’d had to practically squeeze out my cum before I’d gone out of my damn mind. Part of me had nearly climbed over her and had her take me in her mouth. Swallow every fucking drop until she couldn’t take anymore.

That was too much, too soon.

Hell, I’d never had that reaction to someone.

I shoved the shirt over my head and stalked into my kitchen. I drained my gym water bottle and refilled it, draining it again.

Maybe now I could fucking calm down.

“Colder?”

I turned with my bottle at my lips and knew that wasn’t happening anytime soon. She stood in the doorway to my galley kitchen, my shirt practically enveloping her. She’d been a damn goddess looming over me not ten minutes ago, and now she looked like the girl who had gone into the bookshop with me. A little too sweet, too wholesome, too innocent.

Not like the woman who had blown my head off.

I put my bottle down and forced myself to give her a reassuring smile. “How about those pastries I got from Honey Pot? You like honey hot cross buns?”

She tucked her hair around her ear. “I’ve never had them, but I’d like to try them.”

She liked to try everything and that was what was going to take me out at the knees.

I snaked by her, and that raspberry scent gripped me in a chokehold. I couldn’t touch her again or she’d end up naked on my bed again.

“My place is pretty small, as you can see. You good with the couch?”

She nodded and followed me into the living room. She stuffed herself into the corner of the sofa, tucking her legs underneath her.

I went back into the kitchen and grabbed a few plates so she didn’t think I was a stereotypical bachelor and filled the sole extra glass I had with water. When I returned, she had her hands tucked into the sleeves and my shirt completely wrapped around her like a sleeping bag sack.

I handed her the glass and sat down, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” I bowed my head. “It’s me.”

“I can go.” She sipped her water and set it on the small table. “I mean, the lesson is over.”

“It’s not only about the lessons, right?”

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