Page 46 of Howl You Doin?
Just as I move to release the button of my suit pants, a sound registers from a few steps away. I curse myself for being so focused on her and not our surroundings, but the urge to ignore them and sink myself balls deep in her leaves me choked.
I need her more than I can bear, but the sound of footsteps getting closer has me seeing reason.
I curse under my breath, then pick her up deftly and tuck her body behind mine, trying to keep her from view as I sit up on my haunches.
“Get your pants back on,” I order, glancing over my shoulder.
Her brows come together, so I grab her hand and squeeze it—my silent apology for being so gruff.
“Someone is walking down the path,” I say softy around my huffing breaths, and she goes still.
“Oh my god,” she says, reaching down and yanking up her pants. Lifting her hips, she shimmies the denim over that plump arse and buttons her jeans up. As she pulls her shirt and jumper down, I get to my feet, then help her stand.
The taste of her in my mouth, and her scent all over my face and beard, has my head swimming. I reach out to touch her cheek, wanting my tongue in her mouth again, and I really don’t care if we’re caught doing that much.
She swats my hand away. “This changes nothing, Connor.”
Bringing my arms up on either side of her, I close her in against the maze hedge and lick along my lips seductively, her essence exploding on my tongue. “That’s where you’re wrong, cupcake. This changes everything.”
Chapter 16
Whitley Whitt
What in the King Arthur is happening?
“This is freaking ridiculous.”
I shut my book, the same one I’ve been trying to read for the last week, and prop it on my chest. The main male character is about to give her the goods and I can’t even focus on the words. If Connor has ruined my new favorite book obsession, I am going to kill him.
Blowing out a hard breath, I stare up at the ceiling from my bed and press a hand to my stomach. A day later, and I am still trying to ignore the fluttering in my abdomen that occurs every time I even think the man’s name.
I am such an idiot for ever letting him touch me. I huff in annoyance and slide my feet to the floor.
I have no idea what happens next, but I half expect him to gloat over how he had me writhing and wailing in mere minutes. It would be just like him to be all smug, and I really, really don’t want him to fuck it up for me by teasing me about it.
After my first one-day stand on the ground in the maze like a horny adolescent, I have been hiding around the castle eversince. Turns out hooking up in broad daylight with a guy I hate makes me crazy because I cannot stomach the thought of even laying eyes on Connor O’Doyle.
I ran away from the scene so fast I think I heard tires skidding and smelled burning grass.
Avoiding him has been made easy by changing the menu to sandwich foods, allowing me to pre-pack everything for Maria to hand out. I also made a massive charcuterie board which, so far, the guests seem to love. I did manage to have a brief conversation with George, who filled me in on some of the newer guests that have been arriving.
He mentioned an elderly woman named Charlene, who snores so loudly he can hear her from his room, has moved into his wing. Apparently, the only thing saving him at night is his sound machine. According to George, she loves nothing more than to complain about everything, and is an heiress to some oil tycoon that never married. I’m not surprised he knows so much about her, since he’s the king of gossip.
Connor hasn’t come by my room yet, and for that I am thankful because I still have no idea what I’m going to say.
I groan, realizing I am now an unstable middle-aged woman trying to stay away from her unwanted lover. It was never supposed to happen this way. He wasn’t supposed to take me telling him that battery toys can get a woman off every time as a challenge, but something about that day makes me feel like he did. And then he delivered.
I have never in my life experienced an orgasm like that.
Shivers go up my spine and I frown, pulling my reading glasses off my face.
Just the thought of him and my body betrays me. I’m half worried that when I can’t avoid the guy any longer, as soon as I see him, I will throw myself at him and demand he work his magic again and again.
Ugh, and wouldn’t he just get a laugh out of that too.
After being married for six years, I assumed I’d experienced all sex has to offer, but that man turned me into Jell-O with only his tongue, two fingers, and a smile. I can’t face him. I am liable to melt like Olaf fromFrozen, only way more desperate about hugs and other things.
I continue mentally berating myself as I gather up my things from the bed and head to leave the bedroom.
