Protecting Freedom

I sit down on the couch and Washington stands directly in front of me. My eyes go to his chest then trail down to his waist. The bulge of his cock is right in front of me, straining against the material of his slacks. I lick my lips, wanting to touch him so badly. I swear I can make out every inch, including the swell of the head. I remember feeling it pressed up against me and I rub my legs together at the reminder.

I reach out to touch him, but faster than I can process his movements, Washington has me by the wrist. His giant hand wraps all the way around it in a firm hold. I gasp at how fast he moved. He’s on the phone with my freaking dad! His dark green eyes are locked on mine and they’re stone cold. Shit. He looks pissed.

“I’ve got her, sir.” The muscles in his arm flex, and I can tell his body is wound tight with tension. “I won’t let her out of my sight.” He ends the call and places the phone in the table.

“You can’t touch me, Honor.” His voice is low and his face is serious. “I don’t think you understand how badly I want you and how fragile my control is when it comes to you.” He lets go of my wrist and steps back from me. He puts more distance between us than I care for.

I don’t like the cold way he’s speaking to me and it makes a knot form in my stomach. Before now I was sweet pea, but maybe he’s changed his mind. What if he’s trying to get the control back so he can push me away?

I stand up and walk towards my bedroom without saying a word to him. I open the door then close it softly behind me. It takes all my self-control not to slam it. I barely make it ten steps inside before the door is flying open and hitting the wall with a loud bang. I turn around and see Washington filling the space and looking even bigger than moments ago.

“I told your dad I’d keep my eyes on you at all times. That means the door stays open.”

“I was about to change,” I challenge, taking off my cardigan and letting it drop to the floor. Then I reach for the hem of my shirt and begin to pull it over my head. I hear a string of curses, and when I pull the shirt off I see he’s gone. “Whatever,” I mumble. I go into my closet and dig around for something to wear. I settle on a pair of shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder. I find some knee socks and slip them on and up my legs. Then I pull my hair up into a messy knot on the top of my head and walk out of my room.

I’m not going to hide from him. Besides, even if I am irritated by his behavior at the moment I still want to be around Washington. Even if it’s only to watch him pace back and forth. Plus, I’m hungry, and the idea of making us both something to eat sounds good. No, it feels right. It’s so domestic and almost like we’re a couple playing house.

He stops his pacing when I walk in the room and he looks me up and down. His eyes roam over my body and he mumbles something to himself. I keep walking past him and go straight to the kitchen. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s following me, but I can’t help myself. I peek over my shoulder to see his eyes trained on my ass, and I might just put a little more wiggle in each step.

“I’m hungry,” I say I enter the kitchen and open the refrigerator. “Do you want something?”

I make a show of bending over to dig around in the fully stocked refrigerator. It’s always loaded up. When he doesn’t answer I look over my shoulder again at him. He’s standing there with his eyes still on my ass.

“Yeah. I have an itch for something juicy right about now.” His eyes move slowly up my body until they finally come up to meet mine. I turn back around to look into the refrigerator. The cool air cuts the heat rising in my body. What would be like for him to have his mouth on me? Would he spread me out on the kitchen counter for his own delight? How many times have I touched myself thinking about him kissing his way to my sex?

I suck in a deep breath and my nipples tighten. My panties are becoming sticky as the desire grows. I see steaks on the bottom shelf and take them out.