Page 49 of Desperate Crimes
But doesn’t pull away.
Her leg is bare beneath the silk robe, and I slide my fingers higher.
Slowly. Reverently.
Over the curve of her calf, the dip of her knee, the soft swell of her thigh.
Fuck.
She’s warm. Smooth. Real.
My pulse is a hammer in my throat.
“You’re trembling,” I murmur, voice like smoke.
I hear her swallow. Feel her breath falter.
“Because I’m scared,” she whispers.
Liar.
She’s turned on. Curious. Scared too, sure—but that’s not what’s making her thighs tense as my hand slides higher, stopping just beneath the hem of her robe.
“No,” I say, brushing my knuckles over the edge of lace underneath. “You’re not scared. Not of me.”
I circle my fingertips just beneath the hem, but I don’t go any higher just yet.
This is torturing us both, trust me.
“You’ve just been waiting so long, haven’t you? Poor little Princess.”
She sucks in a breath, and I know I’ve nailed it.
Then I shift my position. My other hand joins the first, fingers sliding along her waist, dipping over her hip, all the way to her thigh.
She sucks in a sharp breath. And I move both hands, slipping them under the edge of the robe.
I can almost see her ribs expand with every breath she takes now.
Fast. Shallow. Desperate.
She’s not stopping me.
Not even close.
“Say it,” I lean down and murmur right against her ear.
My lips barely graze her skin. And I know my cock is leaking inside my boxers.
“Tell me you’ve thought about this. About me.”
“I don’t even know who you are.”
A beat.
“You know, Princess. You’ve always known.”
And another.
