Not Until You: Part IV Read Online Free

don’t want to leave.”
    He turned around to face her. “Cela—”
    “Why don’t I want to leave?” She closed her eyes and shook her head.
    Her words caught him off guard, the desperation in her voice—the
want
. He let his gaze drift down her body, taking in the quick rise and fall of her chest, the shadow of her nipples pressing against her top, the restless shifting of her body. The sight wrung the breath right out of his lungs.
    The fear hadn’t run her off. It had triggered something else entirely—something that had glued her feet to the floor. Cela was completely and utterly turned on.
    Every impulse in Foster’s body rushed past his better judgment, and good intentions died a quick death. This he couldn’t walk away from.
    Oh-so quietly, he let the words pass his lips. “Tell me your safe word, angel.”
    She stood there for the longest time, eyes closed, fist balled; but then as if it were being spoken by some force outside herself, she said, “Tequila.”
    And the soft-spoken word was like a gunshot ringing in his ears, signaling the starting gates opening. Everything that had been building in him over the days since he’d been with her, every frustration, every long night, poured into his veins, fueling him. Tonight would either scare her away from men like him forever or it would prove him wrong about what she was and wasn’t ready for. Either way, the time for debate was done.
    Tonight, she’d be his.

Chapter 18
    I couldn’t open my eyes. Couldn’t move, really. Everything in me was in full-fledged panic mode—red lights flashing, sirens sounding.
    But I was locked in place. Dying.
    Dying for Foster to touch me. Dying to see this secret part of him. And dying to know why, when every part of my good sense said to run, my body had decided to wave the white flag.
    “Eyes on me, Cela,” Foster said, his firm voice breaking through the quiet of the room and the sound of my own harsh breathing.
    I swallowed past the dryness in my throat and forced my eyes open, finding a shirtless Foster leaning against his dresser, his arms braced on each side of him. The muscles in his shoulders rippled and flexed, as if his hold on the piece of furniture was the only thing restraining him from charging me.
    “You have five seconds to walk out if you don’t want to be here. One . . .”
    My heart was beating so fast, my chest hurt—like actually
hurt
.
    Foster pushed off the dresser and took a step forward. “Two.”
    Never had I felt like this. Not even when Dalton Roarke, the hottest guy in my high school, had kissed me with tongue during a skit in drama class. I thought I’d pass out back then, but that light-headedness was nothing compared to being under Foster’s purposeful gaze.
    “Three.”
    I wasn’t going anywhere. I knew it.
He
knew it. I shook my head.
    “Two.”
    He was arm’s length away now, and I could see a glimmer of his own trepidation behind the intensity. If I wasn’t scared before, that put me right over the top. On some instinctual level, both of us knew he was opening a door that couldn’t be closed again. This would be the
before
moment in our relationship—if you could even call it a relationship. Once he took that last step, we’d be entering the
after
. But I was mired in the quicksand already. For good or bad, I was a willing victim in whatever tonight brought.
    Instead of saying
one,
he moved into my space and cupped my shoulders. The energy humming through him seemed to seep through my skin and make everything inside me crackle with tension. “Cela.”
    “I’m still here,” I said, my voice a tremble of a thing.
    “So you are.”
    But I couldn’t tell if he was at all happy about that fact. I glanced at his neatly made bed—dark blue striped comforter, pristine white sheets and pillows—the bed he’d fucked other women on. Women I’d heard whimper and mewl from my side of the wall. The thought made my stomach twist, and not in a good way. I closed my eyes