Page 19 of Into the Woods

My fingers are a poor substitute for his blunt, thick digits. I dip and swirl, circling my clit, but all it manages to do is frustrate me.

Desperate for release, I mold and squeeze my breast, pinching my nipple hard between my thumb and forefinger. Finally, my muscles tighten, my orgasm building as I pluck and pinch at my nipple, fingers flying against my clit. Bliss is so close—so damn close it’srightthere.

Right fucking there.

I moan, reaching…grasping at the release I need more than my next breath.

“Fuck.”

The whispered curse is low enough, I can’t be sure I actually heard it. But my eyes fly open, and I sit up so fast, water sloshes over the side of the tub, splashing on the black tile floor.

A hint of movement by the bathroom door has me crossing my arms over my chest.

Reflected in the shower glass is the unmistakable image of Christophe.

My captor.

The man who’s been starring in my dirty mental porn reel.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” Christophe drawls like there’s not a thing out of the ordinary with him watching me in the bath.

It should bother me. I should be mortified at being caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

I should want to lash out at him for barging in here.

I should, but I don’t.

Spoiler alert…I’m tired of being ruled by what Ishoulddo. It’s not like it’s done me any good up until now.

“Sweet and shy,” he says to my silence—my perceived paralysis could totally be taken as embarrassment. His eyes are dark, scanning my exposed skin, lingering on where I’m doing a shit job of covering myself.

My nipples are pebbled, my skin tight. A flush spreading everywhere. I sink deeper into the water but there’s nowhere for me to hide. I close my eyes and contemplate just going underand letting the water consume me, but I doubt Christophe would allow it.

His dark chuckle sends goosebumps skittering across my skin. “Want help or should I just let you finish on your own?”

I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter and dip my chin below the water until I hear his footsteps retreating. When I chance a look, all I see is the blur of fine black trousers and a fitted white dress shirt before the doorway is empty again.

The scent of his cologne hangs heavy in the humid air swirling around me. Teasing me. Caressing me.

My thighs are slick with arousal and my body is thrumming with want. I’m closer to coming now, just from seeing Christophe—smelling him, having him in the room with me—than I was when my fingers were a blur on my body.

I slide my hand down, between my legs and with his gorgeous face in the forefront of my mind, I come undone.

God, there is something wrong with me.

Chapter 9

Debacle

Christophe

twenty-two years old

Frustrated and annoyedthat it took as long as it did to get back there, I was impatient as fuck to finally arrive. I wanted to bypass the house and go straight out to find Winnie, whether that was at her house or in the woods, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I just knew I had to see her.

Four years was way too long to go without seeing her in person, making sure she was still there and was okay. Or at least as okay as she could’ve been.

“Stop here and let me out,” I told my driver. “I want to walk through the woods, stretch my legs before meeting withOncle.”

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