Page 6 of The Room(hate)

“I’m thinking this is more like a loan,” I whispered.

“Enough talking,” he said. He took one hand from the door and finished removing his tie. He lifted my hand to his buttons, silently urging me to undo them. I raised my other hand and fumbled with them, unable to stop myself from shaking with nervous energy as I tried to perform the simple task of opening his shirt.

He bent and kissed my neck. I sucked in a sudden breath at the glorious sensation of heat and wetness on my neck. I flinched so hard I accidentally tore the last two buttons on his shirt off. I couldn’t see his bared torso with him leaning over me to kiss my neck, but my nose was full of the smell of his skin and cologne. It was subtle and delicious. I breathed it in, quivering when he palmed my breast and then slid his hand down my torso and then my thigh, finding the hem of my dress.

His hands were rough and warm against my skin. His touch was full of energy, like I could actually feel little jolts of electricity passing between us where our bodies met.

He lifted my dress tauntingly slow, dragging a fingertip-width path of scorching goosebumps along my skin.

I felt myself buck into him, already breathing heavy. I’d been sweating from my fast-walking, and this wasn’t helping. Fresh perspiration was beading on me until my clothes stuck to my heaving body.

Sebastian raised his head, eyes level with mine. He cupped my chin as a devil-like smile crossed his face. “I never got your name.”

“Kenzie,” I breathed. My stomach groaned, but it thankfully kept quiet this time.

“Kenzie,” he repeated softly, almost like he was trying it on for size. His grin faded and his eyes fell to my lips. “I think I’m going to enjoy this,” he said. “A lot. It’s too bad I can’t keep you.”

“Wait,” I said. “You’re not with someone else, are you?”

He chuckled. “I don’t do relationships.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Me either.” It sounded a lot cooler to leave it at that. He didn’t need to know I didn’t do them because I was poor, awkward, and had a nasty habit of speaking my mind, even if it meant hurting feelings.

He quirked an eyebrow. His fingertips were still running idle trails along my inner thighs, teasing all sorts of warm, rushing waves of sensation that were blasting through my body. It felt like I was running on about five percent brain power while all my senses were so laser focused on what his hand was doing and where our skin was touching.

“Then I guess we’re quite the match,” he said. His eyes were skidding from mine to my mouth and down to the place between my legs where his hand was threatening to move at any moment. I could almost feel the potential energy building up there until I thought I might just reach down and yank him into me. “I won’t need to worry that you’ll come calling after this for a round two. Will I?”

“Please,” I said, blowing a raspberry. The abrupt sound of my voice at full volume and the noise I’d made were painfully out of place. I was nervous and acting stupid, and all Sebastian did was grin at me. “I doubt I’ll even remember this tomorrow. I do this kind of thing all the time.”

“You fast-walked to hear me speak and you won’t remember the time I fucked you?” he asked. It wasn’t a real question. I could hear in his voice and the way he asked that he knew I was full of shit. It seemed like he wouldn’t be happy until I just admitted I absolutely never did this sort of thing and was probably going to fantasize about it even when I was old and gray.

“I was kind of thinking this would be less like an interview and more of a ravishing sort of arrangement,” I admitted.

Sebastian’s heavy eyes held me in place. His hand was on my inner thigh, thumb drawing a casual circle just inches from the ultra-sensitive triangle of nerves between my legs. The few moments of pause felt like the point on a roller coaster where it stops at the highest point, letting you glance down at just how far you were about to fall. I always closed my eyes during those parts, but it was impossible to look away from his mesmerizing gaze.

I’d walked into this room feeling like I was on equal footing with him. In mere moments, he’d shattered that illusion and shown me I was completely at his mercy. My brain was mush, and my body was completely taut like a guitar string, begging and willing to be touched by him.

“You smell so fucking good,” he said in a low, raspy voice. His head was near my ear and he took a slow breath in through his nose. “The moment I got near you in the hallway, it got me hard. I was wondering how you’d taste. How it’d feel to have your legs wrapped around me and your hair in my fist.”

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