Page 6 of Dangerously Tempting
“Open the door, Jameson,” I say as he continues to hesitate.
His brow quirks and he grabs my wrist, pulling me between him and the door where he presses against me, pinning me to the hard surface. His nose grazes up the side of my neck until he reaches my ear and I can’t help but squeeze my eyes shut.
“You are not the boss here, Amelia. The quicker you learn that the faster you’ll be able to let go and enjoy. You want that, don’t you?”
I nod, and his hand comes up to grip my chin and still the movement.
“I’m going to need your words. If I ask a question, words are the only answer I’ll accept. Otherwise, everything stops. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whisper, feeling foolish but not wanting this to end before it even begins.
The lock beeps as he swipes his keycard over the door and his hold on me is the only thing that keeps me upright as he pushes open the door. I regain my footing and he releases me, steering me into the room as he kicks the door closed behind us. We’re barely into the room before he drops into the chair in the corner, propping his forearms on his knees as he leans forward.
“Take your clothes off and get on the bed.”
I flush, eyes widening as my gaze jerks to him. I didn’t expect him to just dive right in after his delay at the door. I must take too long to act because he speaks up again.
“Do you need me to help you, Amelia?” His tone is chastising, and I roll my eyes.
“No. I’m perfectly capable of undressing.”
“Then do it.”
The demand behind the words, the change of his inflection, and deepness in his voice as he speaks them has me squeezing my thighs together. His gaze on me is heavy and unwavering as he lifts his eyes from the movement to meet my own. I can almost feel it as if it were a caress passing over my flesh as his eyes skim across me. It’s the cruelest of teases, and it’s only because I want his hands on me instead that I relent and untuck my shirt to pull it over my head and drop it to the floor.
A sound rumbles from his chest, his hands curling into fists like he’s fighting the urge to reach out and touch me. I wish he wouldn’t. The need to have his skin against my own is almost impossible to resist. Is he feeling the draw as much as I am?
I unzip my skirt and it falls to the floor before I step out of it, my heels still on my feet. A groan parts his lips and he rubs a hand over his face, looking away as if he’s in pain. The bulge straining against the front of his pants confirms that might be the case.
“Fucking hell. Of course, you’d be wearing thigh-high stockings,” he huffs a humorless laugh. “Why am I even surprised?”
“Did you think I was wearing pantyhose like a grandma?” I question with a quirk of my brow as I reach up to unclasp my bra. His chest rumbles again and I realize that he’s growling at me. He’s actually growling at me.
Why the fuck is that so damn hot?
“Leave it. Leave the rest of it and get your sexy ass on that bed.”
I smile widely, moving to the bed before crawling onto it, making sure my ass is directed straight at him as I make my way up to the pillows. I spend way more time in the gym than I’ll admit to make sure that it’s high, tight, and grabbable so I’m not going to let the opportunity to tease him with it go to waste.
I reach the pillows and move onto my back, knees bent and spread so I can look down my body at him as I lean back against their softness. He stands at the foot of the bed now, doing nothing short of fucking me with his eyes as he works each individual button open along his shirt. His control is so sexy, but at the same time, I almost wish he’d just rip the shirt open and send buttons scattering around the room in his haste to touch me.
How can someone make me feel so torn in two different directions? I feel like it’s a constant with him, not knowing what direction I want or need things to go. I want him to have control, to bend me to his will, and at the same time, I want to see that control fray and snap with his desire to have me. Is it possible to have both?
With each button undone, more flesh comes into view and I realize under his nice dress clothes he’s covered in tattoos. They stop just under the collar of his shirt, and go all the way down to the top of his pants. As he pulls his arms from his sleeves, I realize they continue down his arms, all the way down to the ones that peaked out from his cuffed shirt earlier today, stopping just at the wrist where a long sleeved shirt will always cover them. There’s not a spot of color in the mix, all black and gray that flow together almost seamlessly.
He’s like sin in pretty packaging and it’s hot as hell.
The shirt is thrown over the chair in the corner and his pants follow swiftly after, revealing boxer briefs and a few more tattoos on his legs. The more he bares himself to me, the more saliva pools in my mouth. The man is a work of art, fashioned after the Greek Gods themselves. I want to touch every part of him, but I’m mostly riveted by his abs. Never in my life had I seen an abdomen as toned as his and I have the urge to caress it with both my hands and my tongue.
He places his hands on the bed and I think he’s making his way up to me, but instead, he hooks one of my ankles in his opposite hand and yanks me down the bed to him, causing me to squeal and giggle. Then he takes hold of my thighs to work me the rest of the way down so he’s hovering over me, my legs looped around his hips.
“There are so many things that I want to do to you, I don’t even know where to begin.” He presses a kiss to my jaw, gently nipping the same point with his teeth. “I want to devour you.”
“Yes, please,” I beg, with absolutely no shame. I want him to do everything he’s thinking of. I want it all, no holds barred. All he needs to do is take it, and I’ll give it willingly.
His grin is wicked as it stretches across his face and he runs a finger under the waistband of my thong. “Are you attached to these?”
I purse my lips, confused. “They’re just underwear… why?”