CHAPTER 10 | Beau
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Holly sails pasts me, smelling faintly of flowers and leather. Briefly, it muddles my brain—or maybe that’s the jerking off talking. I had to come twice before I could trust myself to walk straight. She left me so hard I was aching—she also just saw me limping. I know she did. Holly doesn’t miss a beat. It’s what makes her so annoyingly good at everything. Which means she’s pretending she didn’t see.
Heat climbs up my neck, and I can’t decide if I’m pissed or embarrassed or pissed that I’m embarrassed. I scowl at her. “What are you wearing?”
“Clothes.”
“You know what I mean. Why are you wearing...?” I wave one hand at her outfit, a mishmash of utilitarian leather and delicate lace. It’s unexpected.
It’s sexy as hell, I think, and now I’m even more aggravate
