Page 40 of Enticing My Off Limits Billionaire

Better than okay. You?

Those three little dots appear, bouncing on the screen...I can't stop thinking about yesterday, he writes back.Do you regret it?

Not at all, I text. Do you?

A pause. I hold my breath.

Not one bit, he says.

My breath hitches in my throat, and I squeeze my thighs together. I wish I weren't in public right now. I need to touch myself. I need him to be inside me.

Wanna do it again?I ask.

We should give it some time. I need to figure this out.

I'm tempted to just show up at his apartment in nothing but a trench coat. I know where he lives—it's not like he's going to be able to stop me. And I don't think he would bother giving it time if presented with the opportunity. But...

I need to get some stuff done for school anyway, I text him back.It's okay.

Are we still on for Salem this weekend?

And I'm back to being breathless and smitten, typing my response as fast as I can.Absolutely.

Wednesday is a little different.

I go to class, spend the afternoon working at Josie's, then head home for the night. I text Quinn from the subway, wishing I could get off at Greenwich instead of going all the way home to my apartment.

What are you up to tonight?

He doesn't respond until I'm unlocking my front door, and my face falls.My brother showed up unannounced. Probably can't see you again until the weekend.

I get paranoid that it's an excuse. I play it cool.That's fine.

A few hours pass, and I don't hear from him again until I'm lying in bed, looking for the perfect romance novel to read before I go to sleep.

I wish you were here, he texts me.

I bite my lip, imagining he's kissing me.Me too.

And before he can say anything else, I keep going.

What would you do to me?

He doesn't answer for a bit. I hold my breath, squeezing my thighs together.

What would you want me to do?

Pull my hair and tell me I'm a good girl, I type back, and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Every word he types is like a caress, and I'm not touching myself even though I desperately need it.

The phone rings, and his face appears on the screen. I answer, my voice breathy. "Quinn?"

He's so quiet when he responds that I almost think I've misheard him...but no—I know exactly why he called.

"Are you touching yourself?" he breathes.

I shift in my bed, my e-reader discarded on the duvet as I get a better angle. I slide my hand down my stomach, wishing it was Quinn's calloused hands touching me.

"Not yet," I purr.

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