Fracture (Blood & Roses #3-4) - Callie Hart Page 0,35

my refusal. “Would you be saying no to me if I was standing in front of you?”

I think on that for a second, imagining it playing out in my head. If he were standing in front of me in this toilet cubicle, I’d do pretty much anything he told me to. I hate admitting that to myself. I don’t say anything, which makes him chuckle. “I’ll make you a deal,” he breathes heavily down the phone. “If you slip your hand down those prissy blue scrubs of yours and you’re not already wet for me then you can hang up the phone.”

He just loves doing this, I can tell—turning my own body against me. But not this time. I huff into the handset, smug that I’m about to prove him wrong. I could just tell him I’ve done it and laugh haughtily as I hang up, but I know on some level that won’t work. He’d know. So I do it. “Fine!” My hand slides down beneath my scrubs, but over the top of my panties—no need to go too far. The smile falls off my face when I realize I’m not only wet for him as he knew I would be, but I’ve soaked all the way through the thin cotton of my underwear.

“Middle finger first, Sloane,” Zeth rasps into the phone. He doesn’t even ask if he won our deal. He just knows he has. The bastard. I screw my eyes tightly shut, kicking myself.

“I don’t have time. I have patients to see.”

“You’re catering to my patience right now,” he informs me darkly. “I wanna hear it in your voice, Sloane. I wanna hear every single agonizing second that you’re toying with yourself, wishing that your fingers were my cock.”

“You’re very full of yourself, you know that?” I say. My breathlessness doesn’t do much to make me sound confident, though. And he just tuts down the phone.

“Use your middle finger. Slide it inside yourself and tell me that’s not exactly what you’re thinking. Wishing for. My dick slamming into you. Do it now, Sloane.”

I want to laugh. I want to hang up the phone and slip it into my pocket, and I want to go on my rounds and forget about this stupid demand he’s making of me. But I also want to do it. Zeth doesn’t say anything further, but I can hear his laden, heavy breathing still on the line. I spend thirty seconds battling with myself, and then I just snap. Like I did back in his richly decorated apartment, he’s trying to make me come to this decision by myself. To make me see it’s actually what I want. I already know it’s what I want, so why am I fighting against it?

That Pippa-sounding voice whispers in my ear. Because you don’t know him. And what you do know is terrifying. But it’s the last two years of my life that have been terrifying. At least I know for a certainty what…who he is. I make my mind up. I slip my panties to one side and press my finger into the very center of myself, gasping quietly. I’m so wet, so turned on. I can’t ever remember feeling this way when I’ve done this in the past. But technically I’m not alone now—Zeth might as well be guiding my hand with his own.

“Good girl,” he tells me. He must have heard me gasp, or he’s using some sort of that strange psychic power that he’s thus far kept hidden. “Is your clit swollen?”

I shut my eyes, trying not to feel absolutely lost and embarrassed. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

“Rub it for me.” I do. I work my fingers back and forth over the slick flesh between my legs, doing my utmost to keep my breathing even. “Does it feel good?”

“Uh-huh.” I swallow a mouthful of oxygen as a ripple of heat shivers up my spine, traveling up over my ears and onto my face. My lips are tingling like crazy. I bite the lower one to try and get a handle on the sensation but it only makes it worse. I can’t help it; I sigh deeply.

“That’s it. Don’t hold your breath, angry girl.” Zeth’s deeply resonating voice is hypnotic now, working into my subconscious. It feels like a physical presence in itself, sending shooting relays of pleasure around my body. “Take your shirt off.”

I blink past the demand and stop what I’m doing to comply, pushing all thought of objection out of my