Page 7 of Mountain Daddy's Girl
I leave the room, my head swimming, my body a chaotic landscape of craving.
3
LILA
Iwake feeling like last night had to be a dream. The end was the most surreal part, when he took my hoodie off and spoke husky words that set my entire body ablaze.
Would people judge me if they knew I followed his orders down to the letter when he left the room? I lay in bed, my hand moving busily between my legs, rubbing at my aching sex as my thoughts burst in technicolor realness with all the things we could do together.
After a quick breakfast with the girls, I tell a white lie. I’m going on a solo trip for some photographs, I say, which isn’t that unusual. They’re used to my artistic ways.
The truth? I can’t wait to head to the MMA gym to see what Boone has in store for us. Last night, in my bedroom, he was staring at me like there was more than lust on his mind.
Curiosity, interest, passion, all brimmed in his intense eyes.
A light rain is falling, but the sky grumbles as though getting ready for another stormy downpour.
“Hello?” I call, walking into the gym.
“In here.”
Boone stands outside the cage on his own, a pair of gloves slung over his shoulders. He’s wearing a tight-fitting shirt this time, the sleeves hugging onto his arms. This is a first for me—I’m jealous of a shirt! Seriously?
When he gestures with his hands, I realize he’s already wearing gloves.
“Why do you need two pairs?” I ask.
He smirks and kicks away from the cage. Every movement brims with the lazy energy of a wild thing, like he has the luxury to move calmly because he can snap into action any time he pleases.
“I asked you here for a reason, Lila.”
“Asked?” I laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
He walks over, scratching casually at his beard with his MMA gloves. “You’ll have to excuse my animalistic behavior last night. Full moon.”
I giggle. “ Ohh, you’re a werewolf, huh?”
“Among other things.”
“Are you saying you regret it?”
“Hell to the no!” He shakes his head. “Are you ready for your first lesson? An adorably naïve little thing like you; you need to know how to defend yourself.”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions about me.”
“Does it bother you how easily I can read you?”
No, I love it, actually. But I’m not going to tell him that so easily.
“I’m not really dressed for it,” I murmur.
“Sweatpants and a T-shirt seem fine to me. Unless you’re naked under that coat?”
His voice gets breathy and husky just like last night.
“I’m wearing a tank top,” I murmur.
“Even better. Take off that coat.”
