Page 94 of Facing Off
“Come on, just one bite!”
To shut him up, I nibble on an edge. It’s divine. Ultra chocolatey, a tender shortbread-like texture, nutty, toasty, sweet notes of browned butter. Okay, maybe one more bite. One more. And somehow I’ve scarfed it all down, letting out the softest moan.
Instead of grinning with triumph, Hughes freezes, like a wild animal caught in headlights would.
Blood rushes to my cheeks. “Fine. I’ll have another one. Otherwise they’ll go to waste.”
I eat three.
And have to stifle more moans.
Now I have chocolate on my face.
He moves like he’s going to use this thumb to wipe itoff, but I’m already rushing to stand. Saying I’ll clean up in the bathroom, though really it’s an excuse.
To splash water on my face as if that will help. And to push down this question that’s tugging at me, getting louder and louder, the more I learn about Hughes.
He wants to take care of everyone, but who takes care of him?
37
ADRIAN
It’s a long flight.As soon as Sonya falls asleep, I head to the same bathroom she’d locked herself in earlier.
I can’t stop thinking about her on my lap and how it seemed like she could want me, the way she was pushing against my cock.
Then she ran away, and it terrified me. I was afraid that we’d crossed a line that we couldn’t come back from. That she’d never want to see me again.
But Sonya opened the bathroom door…and we had dinner. We talked and…
Shemoanedwhile eating my cookies, the prettiest sounds I can’t stop hearing in my head.
I turn on the tap, twisting all the way for cold water. Then I dunk my hand under the freezing stream.
Going straight to the source, I unbuckle my pants and release my aching cock. It springs forward, slapping up against my stomach. I grip myself, hissing at the coldness.
Nothing softens. If anything, I get harder.Fine, but don’t you dare fucking stroke yourself.
I do.
Up and down. Only once.
My whole body shudders.
Okay, whatever you do, don’t think about her and how she’s somewhere on the other side of this door.
There are so many fantasies to choose from. But I need to pick one—any—so I don’t make the desperate need for Sonya churning inside me any worse than it already is. I should picture a random woman. As long as she doesn’t have dark hair, dark eyes, and the darkest of clothes, or a scowl that twists her rosy mouth in so many different angles that I’ve started trying to figure out what each one means. Like if her soft, scowling mouth is clamped shut and she’s rolling her eyes, it’s as if she’s got a lot to say but holds herself back. Or if her soft, scowling mouth is clamped shut and she’s rolling her eyesandshe huffs, she’s choking back exasperation, but also—Ihopesome amusement. And if her soft, gorgeous mouth is curled down and she’s pacing, it means she wants to get up in your face and strangle you, but is trying really hard to pretend that whatever is happening doesn’t matter. Then there’s her beautiful, flat-lined bored mouth. It taunts without a word and makes me want to pull that bored mouth up close and rub my thumb across the seam, back and forth, dipping into wet heat, telling her that I’ll happily swallow all her grumpiness—as long as she touches my?—
My eyes snap open, and I catch myself in the mirror. Two pools of desperate blue rounds with obvious panic.How the fuck am I fucking my fist to her frowns?
I can’t stop. The tendons in my hands stand out as I tug on myself, all the way up, then all the way down, tip to root. A deeper flush marks the bridge of my nose.
Why do I look like this?
In the past, I’ve fucked myself in front of a mirror before, multiple times. But I’ve never looked like this.
The man staring back at me is—is?—
