Page 42 of Miss Typed

“’Night.”

I barely slept. I could have blamed my insomnia on the discomfort of wearing the prosthesis all night—my leg ached—but the truth was curled up beside me. The need to touch her was overwhelming. I was in tune to her every movement, even the way her soft breaths came in the dark.

Now, with the morning light coming through hotel curtains, I found my eyes glued to her. Sometime during the night she’d lost the robe and kicked off the sheets. She was wearing the same white sheer nightgown as in the photographs. Demure, yet sexy, I could see the dusty rose color of her nipples through the lace. See the shadow of her pussy through the scrap of material between her legs.

Christ. I couldn’t remember ever being so hard. Deciding I couldn’t take one more minute of this torture, I got up. The pain of putting weight on my prosthesis made me wince as I went into the bathroom. What I needed was a hot shower and a release.

After locking the door, I took off the titanium leg and sleeve. Noting how swollen my leg was, I knew I’d have to stay off of it today if I didn’t want to make it worse. A little voice in my head reminded me to get a doctor for the recommended routine visits, but I absolutely loathed the idea of any more medical treatment. I’d spent more than my fair share dealing with appointments over last year.

Once in the shower, I let the hot water sluice over my skin while my hand wandered down to encircle my shaft. Over the years, jerking off had become automatic. Hell, after three deployments overseas—and no sex in over a year—it was a necessity. Yet this morning was different. Instead of simply thinking about it as a release, I was fantasizing about the woman ten feet away, still in bed. About what it would feel like to sink into her. To have her on her knees taking me between her soft lips to the back of her throat. Would she let me fuck her mouth? Would she mind if I pulled her hair? Considering her inexperience, I doubted even she knew the answers.

My groan was loud when I finally came on the shower floor. So loud it must’ve woken up Chloe as there was a soft knock on the door.

“Everything okay?”

Shit. “Yeah. Fine. Sorry I woke you.”

Making quick work of washing myself, I hurried out to dry off and get dressed. My leg protested when I donned the prosthesis, but I ignored it.

When I opened the bathroom door, she was sitting on the side of the bed, dressed in the white lace nightgown, looking sleep rumpled and completely fuckable.

“What, no towel this time?” she quipped.

I had to grin. “Afraid not.”

“Such a shame. Any chance they have toothbrushes in there?”

“They do. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Once she went inside and closed the door, I released a sigh of relief. A glance at the clock told me it was almost time for her to leave. In fact, at precisely six thirty, as promised, a knock came at the door along with the delivery of her clothes.

Assuming she’d want to get dressed, I softly rapped on the bathroom door. “I have your clothes.”

“Do you mind bringing them inside?”

Yep. Because I was already going out of my mind with desire. But I opened the door anyhow.

She was at the sink in a white terry towel, her skin rosy from the shower.

I didn’t bother to hide my appraisal, watching her track me in the vanity mirror.

“The art of seduction is lost on me, I’m afraid. I’m not sure whether to drop the towel or pretend I don’t see the way you’re looking at me.”

Drop the towel. My body would’ve screamed it if it could have. “We don’t have much time before you need to be downstairs.”

The way she bit her lip nearly caused me to groan out loud. But when she turned around and brought her shaking hands up to drop the towel, I stepped forward.

“Don’t.”

Her features instantly clouded at my rejection, making me put her face between my palms.

“I want to do it,” I whispered.

Uncertain eyes stared into mine. My heart was beating hard enough I was sure she could hear it echoing off the bathroom walls. Her innocence was the ultimate turn-on. I crashed my lips to hers, loving how she was hesitant at first, but becoming braver with each passing minute.

I finally pulled away. “This can’t be about the money.”