7
Quentin didn’t speak for a long time, instead choosing to hold Charlotte’s gaze, his body domineering and towering over hers. His lips pressed firmly together, as if he were judging her. The pressure between them grew, with Charlotte standing stupidly in the doorframe, still able to smell the scent of her p***y emanating from her fingers. Could he smell them, too? Could he smell how much she yearned for him? Her breasts lifted slightly as she stood, humming over all the possible ways she could entice him and convince him to stay.
God, he frightened her. Her heart raced with panic. This was a top-level celebrity, a f*****g hunk of a rock star, and an ex-s*x addict, who’d apparently cleaned up his act.
The man in front of her didn’t seem like a person who’d ever cleaned up his act. If s
