Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1) by Monica Murphy

Author:Monica Murphy [Murphy, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2014-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Ryder

She fled the conference room after her ridiculous conversation with Lawrence, not revealing much, though I could hear him over the phone. Smug bastard thinks he can snap his fingers and she’ll come running back to him. That she’s just using me as a distraction. In his dreams.

I suggested she use me, but I never meant for her to go back to that asshole. He’s the worst thing for her.

I’m no better.

I remain in my office though it’s past five on a Friday afternoon and everyone’s cleared out. The spring weather makes everyone antsy for the weekend and normally I’m just as eager as the rest of them to get the hell out of here, but not today. All I can think about is Violet.

Sprawled naked on top of the black marble table, her skin so pale, watching as she skimmed her curves with trembling hands. The sounds of her creamy pussy as she touched herself, the way she arched her back, how overcome I’d been watching her fall apart that I’d taken over. Making her come again with my tongue and mouth in a matter of seconds.

Christ, I’m hard just remembering it.

The push and pull between us is ridiculous. I infuriate her and ignite her all at once. She’s not made me angry once. There’s no reason. Frustrated? Yes. She inflames me. Makes me want things I should never, ever consider.

Like her.

Deciding to hell with it, I grab my cell and send her a quick text asking if she’s okay, needing to make that contact, hoping she’ll answer me. Is she really all right? Or worse … is she with Lawrence?

I push my hands through my hair and clutch the back of my head with a growl. Fuck. I can’t stand the thought of that bastard touching her.

I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.

I stare at her answer, wanting to laugh. Wanting to ask her why the hell she’s so damn polite all the time. Instead I type out another text, deciding to cut to the chase.

Are you with your ex?

God no.

Her reply is quick and fills me with relief. I expel a breath, realizing I was holding it, and I grimace, shaking my head at myself. I need to get to the sex part. I don’t care about her. Not really. I can’t.

I’m still thinking of what happened earlier.

She doesn’t respond for so long I become agitated, doubting myself for sending that text. When the hell do I ever second-guess myself? Grabbing a pen, I tap it against the edge of my desk, the rhythmic sound loud and grating on my nerves. I don’t stop, though. It’s as if I can’t.

What exactly are you thinking about?

I drop my pen and pick up the phone with both hands, my thumbs flying over the keys as I answer her.

You. Naked. Spread out on the table. With your fingers in your pussy as you fuck yourself.

Smiling, I set the phone down and wait for her to reply. More than curious to see what she’ll say because I’ve just raised the bar in this text exchange.

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