“Thanks. So, you won’t come down there?”
His gaze refocuses from the middle distance of wherever he retreated to. Then it finds mine. And my leaping heart tells me I’m about to become intimate with the abyss.
I watch him rise from his seat, move toward me with measured, predatory strides that remind me of a sleek jungle cat. He stops next to my chair, and I have to raise my head to meet his eyes. My racing pulse is now screaming and I have to stop myself from full out panting. Or bolting out the door.
He reaches out in slow motion, as if whatever his intentions are, he wants to draw them out for as long as possible.
His fingers find the back of my unbruised right hand. I flinch and gasp from the sizzling sensation. Something shifts in his eyes. A confirmation. Acceptance. Then his lids drop. He stares at his flesh touching mine. Tracing a tiny vein to my wrist and back again. His nostrils flare slightly before he closes his hand on mine and turns it palm up. Again, he traces his fingers over my palm. The sensation is a thousand times more potent. Lust and fire and the need to be fucked hard rush through my blood. My pussy clenches so hard I feel my juices wetting my panties.
He makes a sound and it jerks right through me. One finger rests on my wrist pulse as he raises his gaze and stares at me with stark, devastating hunger.
“I won’t come down there, Elly. But, you’ll owe me.”