Page 117 of Falling Into Forever
It momentarily distracts me. “I like watching you work.” It slips from my lips, but it’s the truth, and I love the sexy flush that creeps along her collarbone.
“Yeah?” she asks. She’s a fucking siren, and I’m entranced by the lure of her song.
It reminds me why I’m calling.
“Are you watching porn?”
She shrugs. “Research.” She smirks, and my memory chooses that moment to remind me how sexy those lips were wrapped around my cock.
“Show me,” I demand.
Her startled expression pleases me more than it should.
“What?”
“Show me the video you were watching.”
She’s shaking her head no, but her chest heaves—she can’t hide the fact that she’s turned on.
“How wet did you get watching it, Saylor?”
Her throat works to swallow, and I imagine filling it with my dick.
“Did you picture me doing all those dirty things to you, sweet girl?”
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to. Her eyes are hooded, and she wets her lips like she can already taste me.
I will never get enough of her.
Saylor stares through the screen with a war raging behind her mask. Will she tell me the truth about picturing us in the porno, or will she fib?
“No,” she says defiantly. “I did not imagine you fucking me. I fingered myself to it, picturing you on your knees watching me.”
Just like that, she turned the tables on me. The triumph shines in her irises like the goddamn vixen she is.
“Show me,” I growl, then watch with sick fascination as her breath hitches and her face flames.
“Now?”
“Right. Now. Save your work, Saylor.”
Her panic flares, and she chews on the inside of her cheek. She always saves her files the second she removes her fingers from the keyboard, even though the program saves itself every few minutes.
I watch her head tilt back and forth while she waits for confirmation that her manuscript is safe in the drive. As soon as her face perks up, I take over again.
“What are you wearing, Saylor?” It’s a stupid question. Now that Grady pointed it out, the same shirt she’s been wearing for two days is obvious. Her cheeks flush crimson when she realizes it, and she fidgets with something on her desk.
“Oh, Sayls. You’ve been fully immersed in your world, and now it’ll be my mission to make you so dirty every day that you’re forced to take care of yourself.”
“I do take care of myself,” she says grumpily, then crosses her arms over her chest to prove her point. “It’s not unusual for an author to get lost in her craft. I write when the characters tell me to write.”
“And you listen so well,” I say with a low groan, “but I’m going to make you so wet you’ll have no choice but to shower.”
Defiance shines brightly in her squinty-eyed scowl, but it’s how she bites on her bottom lip that gives her away.
“Take off your clothes.”
She glares at me. “You first.”
