Page 33 of Taking Chances

I glance to the glass wall, involuntarily and he follows my gaze. Seeing everything, and I meaneverythinginside the shower.

Can earth please open and swallow me whole?

The pause stretches longer than comfortable before his nostrils flare and he swallows. “Did you like what you saw?” His voice is deep, his eyes no longer concerned.

“What are you talking about?”Great save, Anne.

“There’s guilt written all over your face in bright red, and there’s a clear view of the shower exactly from where you’re standing. So let me ask again, Firecracker. Did you like what you saw?”

Firecracker. The word courses my bloodstream like a drug. He called me that the first night we met. And I loved it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Remember what you said, Anne.Stay true to yourself, don’t care what others think.

“Yes. I liked it! OK?” A devastating smirk appears on his face.

“Good girl for admitting that.”

The gasp that escapes me is almost a whimper. My nipples are probably piercing out of my dress, my panties soaking wet. I wasn’t even touched, and yet this was the best foreplay of my life.

“This was a stressful night for you. I wouldn’t dream of using that to my own gain. But if you want me to make you feel good, you just need to say it.”

Another breath lodges in my throat. My first instinct is to say ‘no, of course not’, because I don’t do things like this. But what happened to taking chances?

“I want you to make me feel good.” The words sound breathy and foreign, escaping sooner than my mind came to a conclusion.

He dips his head, his eyes darkening. “I know you’re probably used to gentle, so you’re going to have to tell me if I cross a line.”

I lick my desert-dry lips, unable to form a response.

“Is that clear?” His low voice sends another set of shivers down my spine.

Taking chances, Anne. You got a chance to be a freaking book character—use it wisely.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging. “Take off the dress.”

I audibly gulp, turning an even darker shade of red.

“Th-the lights are on,” I whine, disappointed with my own insecurities.

He approaches the home station and dims the lights. I let out a relieved breath.

“This is for your comfort, Firecracker. I’d much rather worship every inch of your body in full lights.” His voice turns even lower. “Now, take the damn dress off.”

My hesitant fingers slowly lower the zipper underneath my left arm before I pull down the straps from my shoulders and let the dress pool at my feet.

He locks his jaw as he swallows. My nipples are standing proudly, anticipating his next move while my insides swirl with nerves and excitement.

“Those too,” he states, motioning to my panties.

This is so foreign to me, doing things for the sake of gratification—just sex, nothing else. But I crave it, need it more than I’ve ever needed anything. I inhale a deep breath, trying to project an FMC from the books I read. My fingers wrap aroundthe lace and pull them down, leaving me completely naked if you don’t count the flush now covering my entire body.

“Get on the bed and spread your legs.” Each command sends another rush of butterflies to my stomach, but I’m determined to see this through.

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