Page 42 of Sacrifice Bunt

Silence once again settled over the phone before she said, “I gotta go,” and then the line went silent for good.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he swore loudly, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Had he pushed her? Had he gone too far? He knew she liked him. He knew it to down the very soles of his feet, but something was telling her she couldn't do this.

He wished he knew what this was.

Falling onto his back on the bed, he stared up at the hotel room ceiling, letting his mind wander to their night together. Something that had happened a lot in the last couple of days. The feel of her skin under his hands. The weight of her breasts. The slickness between her thighs. The taste of her and the feel of her gripping his cock.

Jesus, now he was hard. Although he'd been hard during their whole conversation. At least until the end. Even then, he'd been slightly hard because fighting with her was an aphrodisiac. She loved it, and he loved how she made him feel even when she made him angry.

He was a sick son of a bitch who was in love with a woman who would never love him back.

He was back to square one. Being without Zara in his life. He’d done it for years. He could do it again.

Maybe.

Chapter 10

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Zara

To say she was busy was an understatement. She kept herself that way so she wouldn’t think of Noah. So she’d stop wishing she was with him. Stop thinking about them together.

Just stop any and all thoughts of him, period.

The only way to do that had been working. From the time she got up until the time she went to bed. She worked through lunch and dinner until she was so tired that her head hit the pillow, and she had no choice but to fall asleep.

That's not to say that she didn't dream of him, because she absolutely did dream of Noah Ashe. Dirty dreams. Hot dreams. Sexy dreams. Dreams of them doing all kinds of things in all kinds of places.

“Gah!” she shouted, dropping her head down onto her desk with a loud thud. She’d done that more than once in the last couple of days and was afraid she would have a bruise.

Not thinking about him was getting to her. Really she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. She was always fucking thinking about him.

It was out of control.

She was out of control.

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