Free You Own Me by Shiloh Walker Page B

Now, as she turned and looked at him, tears glinted in her wide, dark brown eyes, but nothing could hide the fury, and the hurt, in those eyes.
    Fuck , he thought miserably. Rising from the couch, he lifted a hand only to let it fall uselessly to his side. “Lizzie, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
    “I don’t want to hear it!” she shouted, cutting him off.
    He had to duck to avoid the little potted orchid she sent flying his way. And damn, she still had a good throwing arm.
    “Do you hear me?” she said, her voice starting to shake. “I don’t want to hear it. I get it, okay? Nobody wants me. No fucking body. I’m fine as a doormat for Noel as long as I let him treat me like shit, but he doesn’t want me . Neither do you. I get it. Okay?”
    Stunned shock rippled through him as she shoved her tumbled hair back from her flushed face. Her eyes shot sparks as their gazes clashed. “I get the point. You’re a fucking hound dog and I know that. But I’m not good en—”
    He caught the rest of her words with his mouth and when she went to shove him back, he caught her wrists, too. Sinking his teeth into her lower lip, he backed her up against her desk. “Not want you?” he muttered against her mouth. “Are you blind?”
    She tried to turn her head and he tangled a hand in her hair, yanked it back. Her pupils flared, her mouth falling open on a startled moan. “Give me your mouth, Lizzie,” he said and then, without waiting, he took it, thrusting his tongue deep.
    She bit him and he responded by letting her wrists go and catching her hips, boosting her up with one arm while he used the other to swipe out against her desk, clearing it with one careless gesture. Lizzie worked her hands between them and although he didn’t break away from her mouth, part of him held his breath—waited.
    When she reached up and tangled her hands in his hair, he snarled in savage satisfaction.
    Lying her down on her desk, he broke away. Her hands clutched at him and he caught them, shifted her wrists to one hand and pushed them up over her head. Then, as he held her gaze, he reached down and freed the top button of the top she wore. With each successive button, he bared more and more skin, pale, pretty skin, lush curves, her breasts cupped by silk and lace and his brain almost exploded as he flicked a look from her face downward to study those ripe curves.
    “My hands are shaking,” he said, struggling to keep his voice from doing the same as he trailed his fingers along the delicate lace design of her bra, watching as a soft blush pinked her flesh and started to climb upward. “I’ve dreamed about touching you a thousand times and now I am and my hands are shaking…”
    Now he looked at her, watched her throat work as she swallowed.
    “And you think I don’t want you.”
     
     
    And you think I don’t want you.
    Elizabeth felt those words echo all the way down to her soul, she’d swear it. Felt them ripple through her, all but touching her, the effect was so profound.
    And he continued to stare at her, dark blue eyes locked on her face as though there was something more , something bigger, something deeper he was trying to tell her.
    Shaken, she closed her eyes.
    His fingers trailed down the line of her torso, then back up and she swallowed as he undid the catch on her bra.
    “I dream about this,” he said and he let her hands go.
    She whimpered when she realized why—both of his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples and she felt each slow circuit pulsing through her core. She’d had less shattering effects when she’d stroked herself to climax.
    “These tits…Lizzie, I love these sweet, beautiful tits. I dream about tasting them and my mouth is already watering.”
    Her eyes flew open at the bald, blunt statement, heat suffusing her face as he started to lower his head. His lips brushed across one nipple. “But you think I don’t want you.”
    “Decker.”
    She whimpered out his name, unable to