Page 78 of Keep Him Like Secrets

It wasn’t long before the argument the characters had been in during the previous chapter turned into an entirely different kind of heat, and I suddenly understood why her thighs were pressed so tightly together.

“Turn the page for me,” I said as my hand slid down her body, just like the character in the book.

This was an entirely new kind of foreplay for me.

And I was going to enjoy the hell out of it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Saff

It was just supposed to be a quick roll in the hay and I was out of there.

No feelings.

No sleeping over.

Hell, I didn’t even want any conversation.

Just bodies moving together.

Mutual pleasure.

An itch that needed scratching.

I’d been catching myself fantasizing about Soren all week. Even, once, while interrogating someone who I suspected of being involved in the beat-down of one of my associates.

The guy had been cuffed to a chair, and then I was suddenly imagining Soren cuffed there. And how I could tease him until he was groaning and practically humping the air in desperation…

Yeah.

I couldn’t be having borderline kinky images in my head when I was supposed to be beating answers out of a guy.

On more than a few occasions, I attempted to talk myself into walking in any random bar in Brooklyn, finding a guy I found remotely attractive, and getting sweaty for a few hours.

The problem was, the second I even tried to think about it, I got this churning in my stomach that immediately killed the desire.

Because, as I was coming to accept little by little, I wasn’t just horny for sex. It wasn’t like anyone would do.

I wanted Soren.

And only Soren.

Damnit.

I suffered for another full day before I finally snapped, grabbed the key out of my purse, and walked inside Soren’s building.

“Miss Amato,” Walter greeted me, looking genuinely happy to see me.

I’d been pep-talking myself the whole ride up, reminding myself that I was going to storm in there, climb the man like a tree, get an orgasm or two, then get right the hell back out.

Then those plans went all to hell when the doors opened.

And there he was.

Standing in the kitchen chopping something, his suit jacket off, and his sleeves rolled up all sluttily. Yep. Sluttily. I didn’t make the rules.

Then, well. Whiskey. Cooking. Talking. Sharing the only meal a man had ever cooked for me. Realizing he was reading one of my most anticipated books…

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