Page 97 of Desperate Desires

Juice droplets clung to his firm lips, and I really wanted to go to him and lick them off.

But I needed some answers because what just happened was a lot.

I should have been horrified. I should have run from him.

But honestly, all I wanted to do was climb him like one of those spiderweb things they always seemed to have at city playgrounds.

I used to love those when I was a kid.

“No, you’re not a prisoner, Doc. But you can’t just leave without telling me first.”

“I have to ask permission?”

I slapped my hands on my hips, drawing his attention to the fact I was wearing a pair of black leggings and a tank top with a brightly colored, loose-knit crocheted sweater that showed off glimpses of skin and the tight fabric I wore beneath it.

His gaze heated, and my pussy contracted in response.

But I was not about to go there until we cleared this all up.

Who the fuck does this man think he is?

“I’m your husband,” Ono answered the question I didn’t even realize I’d asked out loud.

I shook my head.

“Then be my husband, but I don’t want a jailer!” I yelled, losing my temper.

“Goddamn it! I am trying to protect you, Michelle?—”

I flinched. He hardly ever used my name, and, in that moment, I felt it slap across my skin sharper than any hands could.

“No. You have a problem, you talk to me about it. You don’t do whatever this is,” I said, shaking my head and grabbing my coat to shrug it back on.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“No! Stop!” Ono yelled, slamming the glass carafe on the granite counter and smashing it into a thousand pieces.

The sound was loud, and my mouth dropped open. The scent of orange juice was strong and sweet.

He clearly had not meant to do that, but once again, the violence of it all had me soaking my panties.

My eyes went right to his hands, making sure he didn’t cut himself as he cursed and grabbed a dish towel, tossing it over the mess.

So fucking hot.

There was something really wrong with me. But I wasn’t going to look into that just now.

“I’m sorry. Please, Michelle, don’t go. I can’t live without you,” he begged, dragging me to him.

“Ono,” I murmured, clutching at him.

“Don’t leave me, Baby. Please, don’t go. I couldn’t stand it if you left,” he mumbled, holding my face between his hands.

“I-I wasn’t leaving you. I was just going to get some air.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I know. The guard was there to keep you safe. I just lost my shit when I saw him touch you.”

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