Page 24 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

“Because what good would it do?” she shot back, ready to unleash the full force of her exasperation. “Going to my father and simply blurting it out would only make him furious. I might as well hand him a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse!”

Angelo’s smirk suggested he relished the idea of chaos, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that deep down, making her dad explode was precisely his goal. But no way was she going to take the brunt of her father’s wrath just so Angelo could play the heroic martyr. Besides, she liked her eyebrows right where they were, and she had no intention of watching them get singed off in the inevitable explosion.

Allison hurled at the memory. She had only been home for a few minutes, but she couldn’t shake off the lingering effects of their so-called “coffee date”—a term Angelo had accidentally used, but was stuck inside her head. She kept retching uncontrollably, and she wondered if it was the conversation that had upset her stomach or the latte that tasted suspiciously like regret.

After what felt like an eternity of emptying her insides, she finally emerged from the bathroom feeling lighter but still shaken. Now, all she wanted was to indulge in a long, relaxing bath to wash away the day’s chaos.

She picked out some non-granny panties and a very, very comfortable bra—because sore breasts—and a freshly washedtowel. She always used her bathrobe when she took showers, but she found that using a towel to wrap her hair was better than using those thin wraps.

Thick hair problems.

She gathered her lavender-scented candles and her trusty Bluetooth speaker. With everything in tow, she made her way to the bathroom, determined to create a serene sanctuary.

Once inside, she lit the candles, their soft glow flickering in the dim light, and set up her speaker for some soothing tunes. She carefully selected a vibrant bath bomb that promised a burst of relaxation and paired it with a sprinkle of bath salts that smelled like a spa day in a jar. As she waited for the tub to fill, she leaned against the counter, allowing herself a moment to breathe deeply and let the fragrant lavender work its magic.

“Just me, the bubbles, and no more awkward coffee dates,” she whispered to herself, a faint smile creeping onto her lips as the warm water began to rise, ready to embrace her in a soothing cocoon.

What she didn’t take into account, however, was that the bath created waves—waves that danced like tiny whirlpools and made her feel even more nauseous than before. Just when she thought she could escape the turmoil of the day, the swirling water reminded her of the emotional storm still brewing in her mind.

With a frustrated sigh, she abandoned the idea of a relaxing bath, sacrificing her peaceful retreat for a quick shower. She turned on the water, the sound of the spray instantly soothing her frazzled nerves. As the hot water cascaded over her, she let it wash away the remnants of the day, hoping to emerge with a clearer mind and a little less nausea.

“Next time, I’ll stick to good old-fashioned soap and water,” Allison muttered, feeling a bit more human as she scrubbed away the stress.

Her mind traveled back to Mr. Angelo Taylor.

She wasn’t thinking of his arms this time. Her mind was filled with images and sensations of him. Driving into her from behind and pulling her hair. Or holding her down while he feasted on her pussy. Or the way he had filled that chair so beautifully at their meeting.

Allison shook her head to rid herself of the dirty thoughts, but it didn’t work. By the time her shower was done, she was well and truly dripping. Not from the water.

Her mind was still plagued by the wicked images.

Allison settled into her bed, sighing at the feeling of the fresh sheets rubbing against her skin. It was relief and torture all at once; relief because the sensation was cooling her down, but torture because she needed more.

She was aching, burning and nothing would make this feeling go away. Nothing except…

Her hands softly settled on her sides.

There’s no way I’m going to touch myself to the thought of Angelo Taylor.

Her fingers moved, trailing up her body, caressing her skin.

I refuse to succumb to the temptations.

Trailing even further up, she teased herself as she caressed her cleavage.

There’s simply no way I will—

Oh, who am I kidding?

Fingers traveling to her breasts, she toyed with her nipples; rounding them, pinching them.

It had been too long since she’d taken care of herself this way, since she’d paid her body any attention. The sensation was so intense, she gasped and she hadn’t even truly begun yet.

She left a hand there, alternating between one breast and the other, rolling her nipples between soft fingers. The other trailed down, down, down, grazing her skin with her fingernails asthey passed over her stomach and belly, until she reached the trimmed hair between her legs.

Allison pictured another, much larger palm stroking her skin, and she dripped onto her sheets.

Her desire built, the mess between her folds proof of her neediness as a finger teased her wet entrance. She gathered her own moisture, spreading it to her aching clit and a deep, breathy moan left her mouth.

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