Staying with him
Her imagination went wilder: her on her knees, taking as much of him as she could into her mouth, his hand in her hair, his low groans filling the bathroom.
She snapped her mouth shut, mortified.
“Coffee?” he asked casually, as if he hadn’t just given her a full view.
“Yes,” she managed, voice slightly hoarse.
She followed him to the kitchen, pulse still racing, thighs pressed together as she tried to ignore the slick heat building between her legs. He knew. He absolutely knew what she’d seen and what she’d been imagining.
And he wasn’t going to let her forget it.
End of chapter 4
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