Taken By Him (Obsessed With Him, Book Four) Read Online Free

long sip.  
    “I thought you were sleeping,” I said, in case
he thought I was prowling around his house all on my own.
    “I was at the gym.”   He reached down and grabbed the bottom
of his sweaty shirt and pulled it off his body in one fluid movement.
    Holy shit.   Heat flooded my body
as I tried not stare .    His body was just so perfect that
every time I saw it, it left me breathless .   His torso was defined and ripped, his
six-pack seemingly chiseled out of granite.   A thin sheen of sweat clung to his skin,
making him glisten.   I remembered
the feel of his body on top of mine, the way it had felt to run my fingers over
every ridge of his abs.   I looked
away, but I was almost positive he caught me blushing.
    “So are we going to work or what?”   I asked, annoyed.
    He smiled and took another long pull off the
water bottle.   “You seem a little
feisty this morning, Princess,” he said.  
    “I’m not feisty.”
    “Edgy.”
    “I’m not edgy.”
    “Cranky.”
    “I’m not – “ I started, and then I realized
he was just giving me a constant stream of adjectives in order to annoy me.
    “Can you please let me know what time we’re
leaving?” I said.
    “I’m going to shower and then we’ll go.”   A mental picture of him in the shower,
water sliding down over his ripped body flooded my mind.   But he made no effort to move, instead
just leaning against the fridge, his bicep flexing.   I was leaning back against the counter,
and I wanted to take a step away from him, but I couldn’t.   I didn’t want him to know he was having
that kind of effect on me.
    He was so close I swore I could feel the heat
coming off his body.   
    He placed his water bottle back inside the
fridge, then he reached for my hand, and for a second, I thought he was going
to pull me toward him and kiss me.
    But he slid the sleeve of my sweater up and
looked at my wrists.
    He ran his hand over the tape, making sure it
was still held tight.  
    “It hurt?” he asked, his voice softening.
    “No,” I said.   “Well, yes.   A little.”
    He looked up at me, his eyes filled with
concern.   He shook his head.   “Olivia,” he said, and the way he said
my name, with worry and what I thought (hoped?) was longing, sent butterflies
fluttering around my stomach.   “Promise me you’ll stop.”
    I shook my head.   “I can’t… I can’t promise that.”
    “You will.”
    “I just told you, I can’t .”   I went to pull my hand away from his,
but he held onto it tight.   He
effectively had me trapped, my back up against the counter, him standing in
front of me, holding my hands.   His
hair fell over his forehead messily, and the stubble that was on his face last
night was just a little darker this morning.   He licked his bottom lip, like he was
contemplating what to do next.
    I wanted his tongue in my mouth.  
    Wetness flooded my center.
    “Promise me,” he said, taking another step
forward and whispering it in my ear.   His breath tickled the sensitive spot on the side of my neck.
    “I can’t,” I repeated, but he was
starting to make my knees feel weak.   For a brief moment, I thought maybe he would be able to make me
promise.   I felt like if he would
just kiss me, if he would just do something to me, I would do whatever
he said.
    “If you promise,” he said, and his hands
intertwined with mine, his thumbs moving over my knuckles.   “I’ll give you something you want.”
    I froze, every single nerve ending in my body
on high alert.   Everything flooded
into sharp focus, every sense suddenly heightened.   I could smell Colt’s scent, Axe
deodorant with just the faintest trace of sweat, could feel his body heat
through my thin sweater, could see the tiny scar on the top of his lip that
didn’t diminish even one ounce of his attractiveness and instead just served to
accentuate his smoldering bad boy look.
    Time seemed to stop as I waited for him to
speak, to move, to decide what