Page 155 of Breeding Her: The Red Flag Edition
I reached for my phone and winced at the time.
4:12 p.m.
I’d been gone. Mentally, physically, emotionally.
The worst part? Even as I lay there with my thighs still slick and the toy still warm, my thoughts still strayed to him.
Alistair Graves.
Because why imagine anyone else when I’d already seen what he could do to a woman?
I groaned and rolled over again, this time planting my face in the pillow.
God. I had to start doing yoga, journaling, or something.
Normal people didn’t wind up fantasising about their emotionally unavailable landlord after melting their brain on a Klarna-funded vibrator.
I peeked out from under the pillow, eyeing the toy where it lay like a guilty secret.
…Did it come with a warranty?
Chapter 6
Alistair
When I saw the purple-tipped hair swaying at the base of her spine, I tapped the brake and let the car slow down.
Couldn’t help myself.
The girl was driving me crazy.
Three days.
That was how long it had been since I opened her parcel like a fucking creep—and now I couldn’t stop imagining what she did with it.
Where she kept it.
How often she used it.
If she was using it right.
Was she heading home to use it now?
Her denim jeans hugged her arse like a second skin—tight where it mattered, flaring out below. The fitted T-shirt pulled snug across her waist, catching against the curve of her hips and the dip of her spine. Some men were breast men.
Not me.
I liked wide hips. A soft, full arse. Something to grip when you’re buried deep and losing your mind.
My fingers twitched against the wheel.
I tore my eyes off her as another car pulled into my rear-view mirror.
With a low exhale, I pressed the accelerator.
Callie Shaw was off-limits.
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