Page 89 of A Taste like Sin
his presence wraps me in. “I need you here—”
“Gentlemen.” It takes my brain a second to realize that he’s no longer speaking to me. “I’m terribly
sorry. We’ll have to reconvene at another date.”
I hear muttered voices and shuffling of what sounds like furniture. Then his voice returns, aimed only
toward me.
“You got your wish,” he warns, sounding more as though he’s promising my doom. “I’m on my way to
collect in full what I’m owed.”
I gasp. “You’re joking—”
“Far from it, Ms. Thorne,” he growls.
Which means he really just ended what sounded like a meeting for me. Because of sex. Even so, he
doesn’t hang up right away. I can tell he’s moving. Quickly.
“I suggest you hurry, Mr. Villa.” I’m not playing fair, but I’m beyond caring.
I’m warm instead of frozen for once. On fire instead of shivering. Thunder rumbles, but I feel damn
near invincible instead of fearful. Lightning crackles, but I barely even hear it. Just the promise
conveyed in every curse he mutters under his breath as my fingers stroke and my breaths quicken in
response. It’s unfair that he can do this to me.
“I can’t stop thinking of how you felt inside me—”
“Son of a bitch.” Rapid breathing stutters through the receiver. Is he running? The blaring sounds of
traffic flood the background before I can be sure. Then the sound of a door opening. Slamming.
“I want you inside me like I’ve never needed anything else.”
“Maddening woman.” More cursing diminishes his usual polished persona. He sounds harsher now.
Vulgar. “You don’t know what you’re—”
“I can’t stop imagining how your tongue would feel on me.”
Utter silence comes from his end and I know I’ve crossed a line from which there is no turning back.
I bite my own tongue, but it’s no use. It’s like he said. I’m fucking mad. “Tell me how it would feel.”
He groans. “Like heaven, sweet girl. I’ll show you.”
My heart stutters at the promise. Hopeful. God, I’m going insane.
“I’ll show you how badly I’ve craved your taste. And there…you’re already moist for me, I bet.Dios
mío,woman. I’ll show you.”
He doesn’t whisper. His driver must hear him. And he doesn’t care.
