Capture Me Read Online Free Page B

his chest as my head rests on his shoulder. My mouth is dry and my bladder is full, so I try to wiggle out from under his heavy arm—which immediately tightens around me.
    “Where are you going?” Lucas’s voice is hoarse, roughened with sleep.
    “To the bathroom,” I explain cautiously. “I have to pee.”
    He lifts his arm and moves his leg off my calves. “All right. Go.”
    I scoot away from him and sit up, wincing at the soreness I feel deep inside. I don’t know how long he fucked me that second time, but it could’ve easily been an hour or more. I lost count of how many times I came, the orgasms melding together into one never-ending wave of peaks and valleys.
    My legs are unsteady as I stand up, my inner thighs aching from being stretched wide. After fucking me from behind, he turned me over and grabbed my ankles, holding my legs open as he drove into me, thrusting so deeply that I begged him to stop. He didn’t, of course. He just shifted his hips, changing the angle of his strokes to hit that sensitive spot within me, and I forgot all about the pain, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of his hard possession.
    Inhaling deeply, I force myself back to the present, my bladder reminding me of another overwhelming need. Shakily, I walk to the bathroom and relieve myself. Then I wash my hands, brush my teeth, and splash cold water on my face, trying to regain my equilibrium.
    Everything is fine, I tell myself as I stare at my pale face in the mirror. Everything is going according to plan. Great sex is a bonus, not a problem. So what if this ruthless stranger can make me respond this way? It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just fucking, a meaningless physical act.
    Except with him it isn’t meaningless.
    No. Squeezing my eyes shut, I force that voice away and splash more water on my face, washing away the doubts. I have a job to do, and there’s nothing wrong with treating this night as a perk of that job.
    There’s nothing wrong with letting myself feel pleasure—as long as I don’t let it mean anything.
    Feeling marginally more like myself, I make my way back to the bed, where Lucas is waiting for me. As soon as I lie down next to him, he pulls me against him, curving his body around me from the back and covering us both with a blanket. I let out a sigh of enjoyment as his warmth surrounds me. The man is like a furnace, generating so much heat that I instantly feel toasty, the ever-present chill inside my apartment forgotten.
    “When are you leaving?” I ask softly as he arranges me more comfortably, settling my head on his outstretched arm and draping his other arm over my hip. This is what I need to know from him, what I owe Obenko for my failure, yet something tightens within me as I wait for Lucas’s answer.
    That pang of emotion—it can’t be regret at the thought of him leaving.
    That wouldn’t make sense.
    Lucas nuzzles my ear. “In the morning,” he whispers, his teeth grazing over my earlobe. His breath sends a warm shiver through me. “I have to be out of here in a couple of hours.”
    “Oh.” Ignoring the irrational twinge of sadness, I do quick mental math. According to the digital clock on my nightstand, it’s a little after four a.m. If he has to leave my apartment around six, then their plane must be departing at eight or nine in the morning.
    Obenko doesn’t have much time to do whatever he plans to do to Esguerra.
    “You can’t stay longer?” I turn my head to brush my lips against Lucas’s outstretched arm. It’s the kind of question a woman who has feelings for a man might ask, so I’m not afraid it would raise his suspicions.
    He chuckles softly. “No, beautiful, I can’t. You should be glad of that”—his arm on top of me shifts, his hand sliding down to palm my sex—“given how sore you said you are.”
    I swallow, remembering how toward the end of that marathon sex session I pleaded for mercy, my insides raw from so much fucking. Incredibly, I feel a twinge of