Page 54 of Broken Instrument

“You don’t have to touch me––”

“Then, you don’t need me to stay.”

“Maybe I could use my favorite inspiration…in the flesh,” she whispers, her gaze flicking to mine as her cheeks flush a brighter shade of pink.

Does she mean I’ve been her inspiration in the past?

A low groan slips out of me. “Hadley…”

“Stay,” she begs. “Watch.”

“I’m not going to watch.”

“But you’ll stay?” she challenges.

Tongue in cheek, I squeeze the back of my neck and drop my chin to my chest, staring at the outline of my throbbing erection instead of the gorgeous woman on her knees in front of me.

It’s official. I’ve died and gone to Hell because I’m pretty sure this is the most artful form of torture ever created.

“I’ve already compromised enough,” she reminds me. “I don’t get your hands on me. I don’t get your mouth. Your…” her gaze drops to my jeans, and her breath hitches. “Stay. Please? This hurts. It’s painful now. Like a mosquito bite or something. It needs to be…scratched.”

“So scratch it, Hadley,” I tell her.

Her grip tightens on my wrist, refusing to let me go. “Only if you stay.”

Fuck me. This girl owns me. We haven’t even slept together, but she owns me. Completely. The look in her eyes. The need. The desperation. The desire. And I believe her. She wants this. Not because of the drugs. Not entirely, anyway. But because she likes me. Because we’ve connected before tonight. Before someone slipped something in her drink. Before she showed up to watch me play. She wants me for me, the same way I’m so desperate to claim her for her. The girl with the quirky glasses. The girl who doesn’t see how damn desirable she really is. The girl who fucking owns me.

“Fine,” I concede, causing a shy smile to spread across her flushed face. “But if you change your mind and want me to leave, just say the word, and I’ll go––”

“But I don’t want––”

“I know, Hads.” My mouth curves up with amusement at the desperation in her voice. “I know you don’t want me to go. I’ll stay. But I want you to stop torturing us both and touch yourself.”

So I can get the hell out of here and rub one out in your bathroom.

“But I want you––”

“And maybe we can take the next step when you aren’t still on something. But for tonight, we need you to ride this out, and since you’re refusing to sleep until you scratch your itch, this’ll have to do.”

She chews her lower lip, holding my gaze while weighing her options. “But you’ll stay? You’ll watch?”

“You mean I’ll let you torture me while I keep my distance?”

She nods, her innocent smile turning downright sinful.

Again, my cock twitches as if it has a mind of its own, straining against my jeans for the wet dream in front of me.

I shift back on my heels. “Yeah, Hads. I’ll stay.”

“Promise?”

I groan and scrub my hand over my face. “You’re playing with fire, baby girl.”

“Will you watch, Fen?” she begs, her tongue darting out between those damn pouty lips. “Will you watch me?”

“Hads,” I warn.

“Please?”

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