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His lips brush over mine. “I should go.”
“Or you could stay a little longer,” I counter.
He runs his fingers over my collarbone. “It would be a lot longer than a little.”
I shudder from the featherlight touch. “I’m okay with that. Sleep is overrated.”
My hands reach for his arms, and I tug him closer until he’s practically laying on top of me. He really needs to be wearing less clothes.
Just when I get the top button of his jeans undone, his pocket vibrates.
He groans and sits up.
“You’re seriously going to answer that?” I huff.
Bentley ignores me, then pulls his phone out. “Shit. I need to go.”
He stands and fixes his pants before staring at me still spread out on the couch. “I’d rather be fucking you senseless if that helps soothe your ego.”
I grin. “A little. Think of me when you jerk off later. Alone.”
His stare darts to my dresser. “Think of me when you settle for less.”
I glance back and spot my box of toys sitting on display. Oops. I missed those in my quick clean-up. Whatever. I have no shame.
By the time I turn around again, Bentley is closing the door behind him. I throw my head back on the couch, not even remotely interested in settling for less than the off-the-charts orgasms I know he’s capable of giving me.
Damn it.How did I let this happen?
