Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Why the hell had Draven not jumped her bones? Not thrown her onto his bed and had his wicked, bad boy way with her?
She had stood in nothing but a towel in front of him for the span of minutes . Too shy to let the towel fall or make the first move with the known playboy, she had begged him with her eyes to touch her. And. He. Did. Nothing.
Was she not his usual groupie type? Sure. But why had he not made a move? Lust had burned in his gaze on her. All hooded eyes and parted lips. Flaring nostrils.
Had her standing there in a towel not been a strong enough seduction for the playboy drummer? Fine, I’ll kick it up a notch.
The following day, Thea changed into short-shorts and set up her yoga mat in the middle of the living room as part of a feminine revenge kick. A perfect way to start the morning .
She had never been someone who did yoga, but Alec always said it would be smart to pick up some kind of exercise or sport. Specifically, he mentioned that maybe yoga could help with her “flexibility.” Cringe . She had bought a yoga mat, flashing it at him on weekend mornings, then met her friends for coffee and bagels instead. She always meant to go to a yoga class.
She searched “beginner yoga poses” online and stumbled across an interesting article called: “ The ten sexiest yoga poses to get your partner horny as hell .”
Was the title a little on the nose? Sure. But at least it was not called: “ Seductive yoga stances to get your sexy roommate to want to touch you .”
After the first three minutes of random poses, she thought, I do not like this. How is this for beginners? After a bit more straining of muscles, Thea sighed, and her gaze caught movement in the kitchen behind her.
Peering upside down, between her legs, she saw Draven pause and gape at her round backside from his spot in the kitchen. He spotted her just in time for his morning appearance of prepping a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee for himself.
The show is starting, ladies and gentlemen; please take your seats .
Thea moved into a downward dog, a wide-legged folded position, with her ass pointed up in the air and directly at the kitchen. With her legs spread, she could see Draven between them as he shakily opened a cabinet, eyes glued to her body, and blindly fumbled around for a mug.
Feminine power surged through her as she leaned back on her feet, arching her back. Her tight, pink spandex short-shorts revealed a slight sliver of the curve of her backside. She shivered at the cool air on her hot skin.
See that, Draven?
She hid her smirk as his lips parted; his throat bobbed from a thick swallow. He nearly dropped the glass mug he held before placing it safely down onto the counter.
He turned his back to her as he opened the fridge, and she smothered her giggle as he stuck his entire head into the chilled refrigerator. Trying to cool down, Draven? I don’t think so .
She lowered herself to her hands and knees into a cat-cow pose, flexing her ass out as much as she could. Her legs quivered as the muscles stretched and the coiling of heat in her abdomen traveled lower.
When she glanced over her shoulder to look at him, he was pouring milk into his bowl, not focusing on how much he added. I like the way when I have his attention, I have all of it .
She wanted the bowl to overflow, spill milk, and prove that he couldn’t concentrate on anything but her.
His gaze on her felt like a real caress, a large, hot palm curving over the swells of her ass cheeks and down her trembling thighs. Squeezing. Kneading.
From between her legs, his intense eyes penetrated her, and an answering ache blossomed deep inside her because no one had ever stared at Thea like that .
Feeling hot and dizzy at his tantalizing attention, she lowered herself into a cobra position, arched her back, and peeked over her shoulder.
He was no longer looking at her; he was cleaning.
Her mouth fell open. He wasn’t watching her with lust? A single look from him made her body quiver with need, yet, her short-shorts and hot yoga positions came second to cleaning? She wanted his gaze back on her.
Her lips thinned as she bent forward and spread her legs as far as they would go. Look at me . Want me like I want you .
Finally, he glanced back at her, their eyes meeting. All that fire and sensual heat in his gaze speared right through her. His perusal of her body felt like pinpricks of darts dipped in an aphrodisiac sex potion.
As much as her spike in arousal made her weak, his obvious desire for her filled her with power she had never known. The kind of sensation other women got when they heard Shania Twain sing, “ Man, I feel like a woman… Doo, doo, doodoo, doo, doodoo, let’s go girls .”
Suppressing the need to preen, she spread her legs a bit wider, splaying herself for him. He rubbed paper towels on the counter when she glanced back at him. Had he spilled the milk?
His jaw clenched; he glared at her body as if it offended him that her ass was right in front of him, and he wasn’t touching it.
Clearly, he needs a stronger message to touch me .
She turned on her back and sat up, facing the kitchen on her mat. Supporting her weight on her back arms, she lifted into a yoga crab position but spread her legs much wider.
Draven stumbled, carrying his bowl of cereal over to sit on the couch several feet away from her.
Yes, grab your front-row seat, Draven . He sank onto the sofa and jerkily waved at her as he balanced his bowl on his lap. He wore thin black sweatpants today and, of course, no shirt.
She swallowed her whimper as her gaze licked up the toned muscles, flat stomach, and tantalizing happy trail. Why had she scolded him to wear a shirt when she moved in again? Silly, silly, Thea-of-the-past.
She mentally reminded herself to keep her tongue in her mouth.
Draven smirked at her ogling, and she quickly blanked her expression. This was not about him knowing she wanted him; this was about making Draven drool over her and show her every one of her dirtiest fantasies.
If everyone thinks he’ll break my heart, I’ll just settle for a hookup. I would take any piece of him as a keepsake .
As she moved to her back, she stretched into what the yoga article called a “Happy Baby pose.” Though the title was not very sexy, the position certainly was, as she lifted her legs and spread herself for his hungry gaze. The pose should have been called “Wide Open.”
She tried to keep her breathing even as a fantasy speared through her mind of Draven crawling over her while she was in this position, aligning his hips between her legs, and grinding his hard, insistent bulge against her most sensitive flesh. His lips on her neck. Her fingers raking down his taut, bare back.
Her panties grew slick as a slight pulsing began between her legs.
Thea looked up at Draven, who sat on the couch. Choking.
He was legitimately choking.
She dropped the pose and sat up in a rush. Raw concern threw ice water into her veins.
Draven waved off her concern as he coughed around a bite of his cereal. He placed the bowl onto the coffee table and rose from his seat. When he shuffled around the couch to get to the kitchen, Thea gasped at the sight of the firm bulge pressing forward in the crotch of his sweatpants.
A big bulge. A poke your eye out with that thing bulge. Was he wearing underwear? Because she swore, the buoyant trajectory of his erection was held down by nothing but that thin layer of black cotton fabric.
She… Oh God, she witnessed it bounce as he moved, and her pussy throbbed in response.
Standing on shaky legs, she trailed after him. He opened the fridge door, grabbed a water bottle, and guzzled from it. He threw a hand up to warn her away as she approached him.
She stopped at the kitchen island counter. The stretch of granite separated them and blocked her view of his arousal.
He grabbed a notepad and permanent marker from the counter. He wrote something on a piece of paper. Ripping the paper free, he grabbed a piece of tape, and without sparing her another glance, he trudged to his bedroom, slapped the note onto his door, and escaped inside it.
She hugged herself and fought to catch her breath. Hot desire pumped through her veins, mixing with her blood until the sensual pining engrained in her DNA. Slowly, she stepped toward his bedroom door to read the note he taped outside of it.
It read, “ Do NOT open this door, Thea .”
She sucked in a weak breath. What kind of note was that?
It was like something that warned her not to touch wet paint. That obviously just made her want to touch it more. The second the Beast said Belle was forbidden to enter the West Wing, Thea knew Belle would, at some point, enter the West Wing.
Her head dropped as she stared down at the doorknob. If he really didn’t want her to enter, he would have locked the door, right? She swallowed and pressed her forehead to the smooth, white door.
Was he touching himself? Was that why he warned her not to enter?
She had seen the tortured look of desire in his eyes when he saw her pink short shorts. Her body had caused him to choke on the most chewable, kid-friendly cereal around. So, why didn’t he jump on her?
The image of it —the large, distended erection prodding the front crotch of his pants—stapled itself to her brain, threatening to cling to her mind forever. Her heartbeat thundered, hard and fast, behind her ribs; her body overheated with lust.
He ran to his room. To do what?
Slide his fingers around his cock to jerk off?
Squeeze the red, frustrated tip to keep himself from coming too soon?
All while picturing her yoga positions?
Does he not realize I want him too?
Breathless, her panties wet and pussy pulsing, she flattened a hand onto the door.
I want to go in .