Page 211 of Trouble from Abroad
And then I feel his hands again.
Not rushed.
Exploring.
Learning.
And I—I am one slow breath away from falling apart.
“Mia.”
He says again. But the way it falls from his lips: reverent, drenched in want. It has my whole body tighter than a bowstring.
How the hell does he make my name sound X-rated?
He’s not a doctor. He’s an orgasm whisperer. And I’m seconds away from embarrassing myself all over this very tasteful quilt.
“Yeah?” The word vibrates its way out of my hoarse throat.
He’s closer.
Too close.
Not close enough.
A gentle kiss lands just behind my ear, and it sets off a chain reaction that ripples all the way down to my feet. In my lungs. In the hot mess between my thighs.
“Will you?” Another kiss. Feather-soft. Cruel. “Let me show you what I mean by credentials?” His mouth brushes lower, wetter, like he’s already savoring the obvious answer.
I’m not sure I have a skeleton anymore. I’ve become a sigh-wearing skin.
I lean back, eyes closed, my head resting between his strong thighs, and whisper, “Yes. Show me.”
His hands glide to my waist, unhurried. No fumbling. No rush. Just a confident kind of patience I’ve never been privy to before.
My top is ancient, soft from a thousand washes. The neckline dips too low, the fabric clings too close. It’s soft enough to tease, and rough enough to make me ache.
Underneath, I’ve got a nothing little bra. Thin. Useless. Perfect for the occasion. It’s as if my subconscious dressed me for this ‘audition’.
His hands skim the flimsy material, deliberate and slow, like there’s something sacred underneath. Me.
His thumbs graze the tops of my breasts. The straps are down, but he doesn’t go underneath the top. He follows the edges. He lays the promise.
My nipples ache, tight and straining under their confinement. Desperate for the attention he keeps out of reach.
There’s no room for fear. No space for shame. No time for self-doubt. Not when he looks at me like this.
And when I hold his gaze—hungry, focused, absolutely undone—I believe it. I become the woman he sees. I slip into the fantasy he’s built, and I never want to come out.
This man is going to ruin me.
This was a terrible idea.
Or the best one I’ve ever had.
“I need you to talk to me, Mia,” he says, soft and serious.
“Talk?” My head jerks up. “Right now? I’m not actually interviewing you, Preston!”
