Honor Bound by Joey Hill (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

He laughed. “You should see the look of horror on your face. It’s like I just suggested we go on a murder rampage together.”

She pushed away from him. “That’s not what I meant.” She moved to the railing, looked to the sea for its calming influence. She wished she could tell him how she felt. The problem was, she didn’t know how she felt. Her feelings were mixed up inside. She needed time to sort them through before she blurted out something she might regret later.

He joined her. “I know what you meant. Sorry. I know you wanted this week to have no strings, and here I am trying to tie you up by suggesting we continue to meet once we get home. When we get back we’ll pretend nothing happened between us. It’ll be business as usual, just the way you wanted it.”

Right. Just the way she wanted it.

Only now she wasn’t sure it was what she really wanted. And the last person she could say that to was Clay.

She turned to him. “Yes, that’s what I wanted.”

His lips lifted and he smoothed his hand over her cheek. “So let’s make tonight good.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers with a kiss so achingly tender she had to squeeze her eyes tight to push back the sting of tears. She shuddered as he pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss.

She would miss him. There was more to what she felt than just sex. She was afraid she was falling in love with Clay.

And she couldn’t . . . wouldn’t tell him that.

He’d trusted her to keep things physical between them. She wouldn’t ruin this last night together by spilling out emotions when she knew damn well he wasn’t interested in any of that. He was a man who enjoyed women, but didn’t want any strings tying them

together.

She let it all go, losing herself in his kiss, in the way he moved his hands over her body.

He’d learned her body so well in the past week—where to touch her to elicit the moans she couldn’t contain. He knew exactly what buttons to push and he was a damn expert at making her weak-kneed in mere minutes. The slow torture of his mouth doing sinful things to hers, his tongue sliding its velvety softness across hers, made her whimper. He moved his hands along her back, down and then up, until he tangled one hand in her hair and held on, the other continuing its slow exploration along the fabric of her dress. Her nipples tightened and pressed against his bare chest.

He pulled away, long enough for her to catch her breath and tilt her head back to gaze into his eyes—eyes that mirrored the mystery of the ocean.

He was panting, too, his full lips parted as he looked down at her, his expression so intense he almost looked as if he were angry.

But she knew those expressions now. It wasn’t anger. It was pure desire.

He walked her backward several steps until her back hit the wall of the balcony.

“Raise your arms over your head.”

She did, and he smoothed his hands down her arms, so damn slowly she thought she’d die in agony. The silk abraded her nipples. Her pussy was wet, her clit tingling with need.

She’d worn nothing under her dress, her intent to seduce, to tease.

But now who was the one teasing? It wasn’t her.

Clay used his palms to trace her body, continuing his slow assault with his hands over her shoulders, across her collarbone, then down her side, lingering when he reached her breasts. He took a few seconds to trace his thumbs over her nipples. Her breath caught and she watched, waited for him to tweak them, pull them, but he didn’t, instead caressing her waist and hips, before his gaze snapped back to her face.

She swallowed, the action fruitless. Her throat had gone dry.

He grasped the material of her dress at her hips, then began to lift.

They were outside on the balcony, but it was dark. No one could see them. But the fact that Clay was baring her lower body wasn’t lost on her. It was scandalous. Thrilling.

“Part your legs for me, Ella.”

Her legs shook as she widened them. She braced her hands on the wall for support, found she needed it when Clay slid his hand between her thighs and cupped her sex. He palmed the wall with his other hand and kept his gaze trained on her face.

“You’re wet. You want me?”

She found it hard to breathe, but managed to form words. “I think you know I do.”

“I don’t know,” he said, sliding his hand across her sensitive flesh.

“You’re a mystery to me. You have to tell me what you want.”

She gasped as his touch liquefied her. He slid two fingers inside her and continued his assault on her senses. “Yes. That’s what I want.”

He stilled. “What? Tell me.”

She wanted to slide down on his fingers, to grasp more of that sweet pleasure. “Your fingers. Inside me.”

The teasing smile he gave her wrecked her. “My fingers are already inside you, Ella.

What do you want me to do with them?”

“Fuck me. Fuck me with them.”

He did, sliding them out, then back in again. And when he swirled his thumb over her clit, she banged her head against the stone wall behind her, oblivious to anything but the sweet pleasure he gave her. And through it all, Clay watched her, kept his gaze trained on her face, while his hands performed magic.

She felt her walls tightening around his fingers as with every thrust she grew closer to orgasm. He swiveled his thumb back and forth in a steady rhythm over the tight nub of her clit, and she cried out, not caring who heard her. Her climax was swift, thunderous, and Clay covered her mouth with a deep, amazing kiss as he took her from the throes of a mighty orgasm to a languorous place