Beautiful Distraction(23)

I close my eyes, my mind focusing on the picture of him on his bed.

But now he’s no longer alone.

It’s me who’s doing all the naughty things to him. He’s groaning while I’m pleasuring him. I like the thought that he’s aroused because of me.

My hand slips into my panties. Between my legs, I’m dripping wet—for him. The muscles inside me clench, the heat unbearable. I slide two fingers inside me, imaging it’s his fingers that glide between my wet folds.

To the sounds coming from next door, I begin to touch myself. When he comes, my own orgasm ripples through me.





CHAPTER EIGHT





A rap at the door jolts me out of a dream involving the most beautiful yet infuriating green eyes I have ever seen. I don’t bother to cover up my half-naked body as I shout, “Come in.”

The door opens, but instead of Mandy’s head popping in, it’s Kellan who’s standing in the doorway. I sit up straight, surprised to see him, all traces of sleep gone.

The image of his erection enters my mind, and I remember last night’s events.

I remember what I did.

Oh, the mortification.

My face catches fire as I cross my legs to hide the after-orgasm effects.

“Slept well?” He sports the usual irritating, smug expression.

My heart skips a couple of beats.

Yes, I slept well.

Too well. All thanks to him.

In broad daylight, he still looks like the jerk I remember from our first meeting. A sexy grin tugs at one corner of his mouth, sending my insides into a jumbled frenzy of stirred emotions. The hair is definitely longer than it was back in NYC, and the crisp businessman look is gone. The slightest hint of dark stubble throws shadows on his cheeks and chin, and he looks surprisingly sexy in yet another pair of faded denims and a snug shirt that leaves little to the imagination. Without a doubt, he’s the most stunning man I have ever seen. And I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself in his presence. I’m the most reasonable and composed person I’ve ever known. Nothing ever fazes me, and yet, for some reason, I can’t be my usual cool self around him. Particularly not now, with all those vivid memories occupying my mind.

Does he know I watched him jerk off?

Impossible. His eyes were closed the whole time, and I’m sure I stood there no longer than two minutes. I mean, surely no one can hold their breath for longer than that.

But did he hear my moans through the thin walls?

I tried to be quiet, but how quiet can you be when you’re lost in sexual nirvana?

That was the question that bothered me immediately after I came. Even if he heard me, why shouldn’t I consider it only fair that he be embarrassed too? After all, fair is fair.

Why am I even pondering over what can’t be changed now?

Because he can’t possibly know.

I need to push this memory to the back of my mind—deny it, bury it deep inside my subconscious, so that not even a Freud follower could extract it. I’m going to lie to myself until the lie becomes the truth. How hard can that be?

Until then, it’s going to be my secret.

My terrible, hot…hot…hot secret.

Oh, God.

No one has a cock like Kellan: big, engorged, perfect in its size and thickness.

No one redefines jerking off the way he does. He’s the reinvention of holy hotness.

I’m such a lost cause. If Sigmund Freud were still alive, I know what he’d tell me, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

“Everything okay? You look a little flustered,” Kellan remarks.

“Yeah. I just had a—”

Bad dream, I wanted to say, but I can’t, because then I would have to lie and claim the dream was most certainly not about him, nor about his gift of a manhood to the female population.

“You had what?” Kellan prompts.

“I just couldn’t—”

Sleep.

What the hell!

I can’t say that either because he might think that I heard him. If he so much as catches a whiff of the idea that I sneaked around last night, I’m so going down. Big and fast—like the way he pumped into his palm.

Shit.

The words big and fast are making me horny.

“Mmmh.” Kellan nods as though he totally gets me, which I’m sure he doesn’t. “So, you slept well? The fresh country air must have knocked you out.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I slept like a stone. No, make that a boulder.” What the fuck am I saying? That doesn’t make any sense. I let out a nervous laugh. Heat rolls over my body in thick, fast waves, and the tender spot between my legs begins to pulsate again. I need to get this guy out of my bedroom. “Thanks for letting us stay the night.”

“No problem.” He leans against the doorframe and regards me, amused. “It’s nice to have company. Your friend told me a bit about you after you left.”