Page 142 of Midnights
Her head snaps to me so fast I barely hold back a laugh.
She glares at me, folding her arms. Her expression darkens into something deadly, andfuck meif that look alone doesn’t undo me all over again.
“Kid? How old areyou,anyway?”
“That is a question for another day, Princess. I have to go back to work.”
Her lips press together into the slightest pout, and I swear to God, I might actually lose my mind.
“Guess that means you’ll have to keep talking to me if you want to find out.”
She huffs, glaring at me, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile as she reaches for the handle.
“Don’t you dare touch that door.” I snap.
She freezes, looking back at me, parting her mouth in surprise.
“Good—”Fuck.I stop myself, snapping my mouth shut on the word like it betrayed me. My jaw stays locked as I push open my door and step out, keeping the rest buried where it belongs.
I need a second to breathe.
Praying she won’t ask what I was about to say, I run a hand down my face, trying to collect myself. Every muscle in my body feels wound tighter than a spring as I walk around to her side, forcing myself to just open the goddamn door and drive away.
I pull the door open, extending a hand and our eyes lock as her fingers slip into mine. Her grip is firm but careful as she steps out, avoiding a puddle with effortless grace.
Her fingers linger just enough to test my patience.
“See ya later,Princess.”Thank fuck my voice is steady even though everything in me is anything but.
She waves over her shoulder with that knowing little smile gracing her lips and I watch until the door closes behind her.
As soon as I step inside, the smell of food hits me. My stomach clenches, a not-so-subtle reminder that I skipped lunch today.
“Long day at work, honey?” Cam’s voice carries from the kitchen, and I can hear the amusement in his tone.
“Fuck you. But aye, it was.” I drop my keys on the counter with a clatter.
He laughs, barely holding it together. “You’ve been trying for years, but no means no, pal.” He waves a spatula at me like a weapon, his grin downright smug.
I shake my head as I head to my room. Funny thing is, Cam could probably kill a man with that thing and make it look easy. He’s lethal in more ways than one. But right now, with a smudged apron tied around his waist and a streak of flour across his cheek? He looks more like someone’s frustrated housewife than a trained operative.
“Nice apron,” I call over my shoulder, laughing as I shut the door behind me.
His muffled retort follows, something about me being jealous of his culinary skills, but I’m already peeling off my shirt. I need to shower before I deal with him and whatever he’s made.
I’m past cold showers at this point. That ship sailed long ago.
Stepping under the scalding water, I let the heat work into my muscles, rolling my shoulders as I exhale. The weight of the day slips down the drain, but the tension knotting my stomach refuses to go anywhere.
The second her face flashes in my head, I see her on her knees—mouth parted and breathless, glaring up at me but waiting for my next command.
Before I can stop myself, my hand wraps around my cock. A groan rips out of me, drowned under the pounding water. I brace my other hand against the shower wall, clenching my jaw. My hand drives faster, and each stroke is a surrender I swore I wouldn't give her.
She’s probably never had a man actually give her exactly what she needs.
My muscles coil tighter at the image of her wrecked and moaning around me like she was made for it.
Fuck.
