Page 90 of Make Me Yours
Low. Patient. Full of authority.
It’s impossible to resist.
I cross the room, my bare feet whispering over the floor before lowering myself carefully onto the glass. It’s cool against my skin, hard and unyielding, which only sharpens everything I’m feeling.
I spread my legs a little, feeling both unsure and self-conscious.
He exhales, smoke unfurling from the corner of his mouth as his gaze sweeps over me.
“No,” he says slowly. “That won’t do. Lie back, sweetheart. And spread your legs wide.”
My pulse pounds in my ears as I ease onto my back. The sharp edge of the table bites into my spine. Even though I’m quivering with nerves, I do exactly as he instructs and part my legs wider until I feel the air brush over the slick heat of my center.
I’m completely open to him.
Exposed.
Bare.
And somehow, it only amplifies my arousal.
“More,” he murmurs, swirling the bourbon in his glass. “I want to see all of you. Every pink inch.”
I shift again, spreading my legs farther apart until I feel vulnerable and filthy and powerful.
He still doesn’t move.
He just watches.
And somehow that’s worse.
Better.
All of it.
His gaze skates over me like a caress as he takes another puff of his cigar. The glow brightens in the shadows before he releases the smoke in a lazy stream.
I’ve never been studied in this manner before.
“I’m waiting.”
My hand trembles as I slide it down my stomach. When my fingers find the slick ache between them, my eyelids feather shut on instinct.
“Eyes on me,” he growls.
My lashes snap open and my gaze locks back on him.
And when I touch myself in front of him, it’s like something inside me unravels.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice rough and low, edged with bourbon and smoke.
The praise, paired with the warm scent of tobacco and the intensity of his expression, sends a fresh wave of heat spiraling through me. I moan, fingers circling my clit in slow, shaky strokes.
Just like I did the other night.
Only this time, I’m not alone.
Steele is here.
