Page 31 of Until I Have You

I want to touch it, run my fingers through it.

I bet it’s so bloody soft.

I need…soft.

Which is ironic because I have an erection as hard as stone right now.

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

This is ridiculous.Childish, really, to be so consumed with a woman that I’m getting hard over her, and she’s not even in the room with me.

“Bollocks,” I mutter and then with my other hand, I grab myself through my pants.

I haven’t been this hard in years, probably.Not with any woman I’ve tried to fill the time and certainly not with my own hand.

What is it about Abigail Lyons?How did it take only one encounter in the aquarium to changeeverythingabout the way I see her?

I mean, I knew her as a child, this is absolutely despicable of me to see her any other way.

And yet, when I think of her, it is not Abigail as a child, but as the lithe and elegant woman who challenged me in the kitchen, flaunting her degree, fiery like her hair, challenging me whenever the opportunity allows.

I start moving my hand over my erection, letting out a tight breath as it seems to swell even more.

This is wrong, so deeply wrong, and yet I need to see this through.

As I work myself with my hand, I press a palm over my eyes, relax the muscles of my face.That image of Abigail returns.

She bats her light-colored eyelashes.Her pink lips part.

In my mind’s eye, suddenly, she’s naked, and I can’t look down, even though it’s pretend, Ican’t.

She’s Edwin’s daughter.

The funny thing about the brain, though, is when you tell it not to do something, it fixates on doing it.

I grip my cock harder and pull as I imagine her beautiful body.

Is it too covered in freckles the way her face is?Could I kiss every single one and make constellations across her soft, pale skin?And what does she look like laid out in absolute surrender, her body flexing and relaxing, chasing the orgasm that I could–

“No, no, no,” I mutter to myself.

I can’t come over this, I can’t.

But my hand doesn’t stop moving up my shaft.

“Bloody hell, bollocks.”

As I imagine Abigail embracing me, pulling me on top of her as if she cannot be close enough, the orgasm embraces me too.

A sound manifests at the back of my throat, choking and surprised and pathetic, and I spend into my pants, wishing it were something warm and wet andAbigail.

I don’t move for a long time, letting my cock turn flaccid in my hand, my arm over my face, and my seed turning cold.

I am a grown man.This is my room.And what happens here is my business and mine alone.

If I can keep my attraction confined to these four walls, then there is nothing to be ashamed of.Right?

Except thoughts are not so easy to tame.I cannot leave my brain behind, which means my fantasies will haunt me everywhere I go, all damn day.

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