Page 87 of Can't Stop Watching
If Tessa could see me now, she'd either high-five me or stage an intervention. Possibly both.
"Can you breathe okay?" Dane asks, his voice a mix of concern and something darker that makes my stomach flip.
"Yeah," I manage, though my breathing is anything but okay. It's shallow and quick, my chest rising and falling rapidly under my dress.
He steps back, eyes traveling slowly from my raised arms down to where the hem of my dress has ridden up dangerously high. The look on his face is pure predator—hungry, focused, and utterly captivated.
"You're beautiful like this," he says, circling me slowly. "Stretched out. Waiting."
My legs tremble slightly, partly from the position and partly from the way his gaze seems to touch me physically. I test my restraints—secure but not painful. I'm completely immobilized, yet somehow I've never felt more powerful than I do right now, watching Dane's careful control fracture at the edges just from looking at me.
"So what now, Detective?" I ask, aiming for sarcastic but landing somewhere closer to breathless. "Is this where you interrogate me?"
Dane only gives me a crooked smile, the kind that makes my stomach drop like I'm on a rollercoaster. Then he kneels in front of me, and holy shit, the visual alone nearly makes me moan.
"Spread your legs," he says, his voice low and commanding.
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "That's not exactly the most romantic request I've heard."
"I'm not going for something entirely different right now." He places his hands on my ankles, firmly adjusting my stance, spreading my feet to brace against the doorjamb.
Jesus Christ. I'm completely vulnerable now, my arms stretched overhead, legs spread, with only the thin fabric of my dress between his face and my wet, wet core. The position and his hungry expression makes me feel both incredibly powerful and utterly helpless—a contradiction that sends my pulse racing.
"Is this how you treat all your dates, or am I special?" My voice comes out breathless and shaky.
His eyes meet mine as his hands slide up my calves, stopping at my knees. "You know you're different."
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. This isn't just some kinky game for him. There's something deeper happening here, something that scares the absolute shit out of me.
"Different how?" I press, needing to hear him say it.
His hands continue their journey upward, pushing my dress higher until I feel the cool air of his apartment against my exposed center. A possessive growl escapes him when he confirms I've followed his instructions perfectly.
"Different as in I thought this up all for you," he murmurs against my inner thigh. "Different as in I've never wanted anyone the way I want you."
His breath is hot against my skin, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of how drenched I already am, how desperately I want his mouth on me.
"Dane," I whisper, tugging uselessly at the handcuffs.
"I got you," he says, looking up at me with those intense gray eyes. "Trust me."
And God help me, I do. Despite every warning bell in my head, despite knowing men like Dane Wolfe are dangerous, I trust him completely in this moment.
The first flick of Dane's tongue against my core nearly buckles my knees. Thank God for the handcuffs holding me up because my legs have officially checked out of their job responsibilities.
"Jesus," I gasp as he dives under my dress, his broad shoulders disappearing beneath the fabric. His hands grip my thighs, holding me in place while his mouth—holy fuck, his mouth—works magic that should probably require a license.
He laps at me with slow, methodical strokes, exploring every fold like he's mapping territory he plans to conquer repeatedly. Each pass of his tongue sends sparks shooting up my spine. My head falls back as I pant.
"You taste," he growls against me, pausing just long enough to speak, "fucking incredible every time."
"You're still—holy shit—obsessed with this?" The words tumble out strangled as he finds my clit and circles it with that devastating precision I'm getting dangerously used to.
His chuckle vibrates against my most sensitive flesh, sending electric currents everywhere. "More now than the first time, sweetheart."
My hips buck involuntarily, chasing more pressure, more friction, more of whatever magic he's working down there. The handcuffs clank against the bar as I pull against them, desperate to touch him, to grip his hair, to do literally anything but dangle here helpless while he methodically takes me apart.
"This is exactly where I wanted you," he murmurs, his breath scorching my already throbbing center. "Stretched out. Unable to hide. Completely at my mercy."
