Free Debauched (Undone Book 3) by Jennifer Dawson

of time and patience.
     

 
     
     

    Ruby
     
    I’m lying in bed, staring at my ceiling, panting for breath. I tried so hard to resist, not wanting to make the call I’d promised Chad, but in the end I hadn’t been able to deny the ache.
    That’s never happened to me. I can always resist.
    It’s two in the morning, I’m exhausted, and when I’d agreed to call him I’d convinced myself I’d go home and go to bed. That I’d have nothing to report.
    The darkness enveloping me, I’d lain in bed, replaying the night over and over again until I burned with lust. It was such a strange experience, because it was nothing I’d ever felt. Before Chad infiltrated my thoughts orgasms had been functional, a once in a while occurrence to relieve stress, not neediness. Something I should do because it seemed the only thing I had available to prove I wasn’t sexually dead.
    But tonight, I felt turned on. Hot. Wet. And swollen.
    I don’t understand what Chad is doing to me. Or how he’s making me respond when no one else has.
    The way he kissed, it was better than sex. Way better.
    He kissed like I was the only woman in the world. That he’d never tasted anything so good in his life. Like he couldn’t get enough, but he’d been true to his word, and never gone further.
    It had given me a freedom that was foreign to me.
    I hadn’t had to think or plan what I was going to do. I didn’t have to think about what kind of guy he might be, what kind of sex he was into so I could play my part. I didn’t have to fake anything because he expected nothing from me. For the first time I let myself feel, surprised to find I could.
    I glance at my phone, lying on the table next to me. I’d promised.
    He’d made me a promise earlier tonight and kept to it. Now I had to do the same.
    My cheeks flushed. I picked up my phone and pressed his number.
    “Hello, Ruby.” His voice is sleepy.
    I clear my throat. “Did I wake you?”
    “You did, but I don’t mind.”
    I bite my lip. “Should I have waited until morning?”
    “No,” he says, his tone filled with that steady surety that soothes me. “If I’d wanted you to wait, I would have said so.”
    A distant part recognizes what I’m doing and wants to stop me, but I’m too tired for that. I close my eyes. “All right. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
    “You’re welcome. Are you busy after work?”
    My heart leaps with excitement. “No.”
    “Do you want to go see a movie?”
    “Yes.” I’m almost embarrassed to admit to myself, that I would have said yes to almost anything to be with him. Oh god, I’m turning into one of those girls. I’m not sure I can handle it.
    “Good.”
    “All right then…” I clear my throat again. “Good night.”
    Just as I think I’ve gotten off scot-free he says, “Aren’t you forgetting something, girl?”
    A lightning bolt of need shoots straight through me. How many times have I witnessed Michael call Layla “girl” with an envy I can barely admit? My face heats. “Um… No?”
    He chuckles low and lazy. “So you are not calling to tell me you fucked yourself with your fingers and came?”
    He makes it sound so good. So delicious and wicked.
    “Oh, that.” I try and make my voice light. “That too.”
    “Tell me.” His voice lowers. “Say the words, I came thinking about you.”
    I lick my lips, going hot all over again. “I came thinking about you.”
    “Did you think about tonight?”
    “Yes.” It’s so much easier when he asks me questions.
    “Did you think about me standing over you?”
    “Yes.” I had, I pictured him staring down at me, his blue eyes hot, his gaze intent. And the more I thought of it, the hotter I got.
    “Did you play with your nipples?”
    I don’t understand how he does it. My belly turns heavy with lust. “Yes.”
    “And I watched you?”
    “Yes.” My breathing kicks up.
    “Are they hard and begging for attention right now?”
    At the words, my nipples pull impossibly tight. I