Framing Felipe by Holley Trent Page A

below?”
    “Shit.”
She
swallowed,
fairly
certain
she
was
translating
his
Spanish
adequately.
He
    wanted
to
bone,
and
it
kinda
sounded
fun.
    “Perhaps
I’ll
bind
your
wrists
and
let
you
hang
nude,
waiting
for
me
to
act
out
my
    whims.
Touch
you
everywhere.
Leave
you
breathless.”
    “Never,”
she
said
in
a
low
voice,
though
that
was
just
automatic.
It
was
what
she
was
    programmed
to
say
to
strange
men,
but
really?
She
didn’t
mind
the
idea
of
someone
else
    taking
control
for
once,
assuming
that
person
had
the
skills
to
pleasure
her
without
    instruction.
He
had
to
have
the
expertise
to
go
along
with
that
swagger.
Sexy
as
they
were,
    words
meant
nothing.
    He
dragged
the
tip
of
his
tongue
up
her
lobe
and
nipped
at
the
top.
    A
sharp
exhalation
of
air
left
her
lungs
and
her
eyes
widened
even
as
she
tried
to
pry
    her
body
away
from
him.
    His
grip
on
her
waist
tightened,
and
the
calloused
palm
of
his
other
hand
eased
inside
    the
back
of
her
shirt,
abrading
the
skin
there
and
sending
delightful
jolts
down
her
spine.
    “Yes,
I
think
so,”
he
whispered.
“You’ll
do
what
I
want
and
like
it.”
    She
ran
her
tongue
over
dry
lips
and
blinked
several
times,
vision
hazing
from
    incredulity
or…what?
She
didn’t
know.
“What
if
I
don’t?”
    “I
think
I’ll
figure
out
what
you
like.”
His
hand
eased
slowly
around
her
ribcage,
up
to
    the
band
of
her
bra.
“And
then
I’ll
make
you
like
what
I
like.”
    She
drew
in
a
breath,
steadying
herself,
and
thinking, He
wouldn’t ,
though
she’d
dare
    not
move.
    And
he
did.
His
large
hand
closed
over
her
left
breast,
and
his
thumb’s
pad
made
a
    circuitous
path
over
the
fabric
covering
her
areola.
    Presumptuous
bastard.

    FRAMING FELIPE
–
34
–
Holley Trent

    But
she
didn’t
pull
away.
She
wanted
to
see
just
how
far
he’d
go—just
how
brazen
he
    was.
And
how
dare
he
be
so
forward
and
yet
so
calm
while
she
was
burning
up
inside?
She
    could
feel
his
heart
beating
against
her
right
shoulder,
and
its
drumming
was
steady
and
    even.
He
could
have
been
at
the
symphony,
for
how
slow
it
was.
    “Why
hasn’t
anyone
claimed
you?”
He
peeled
back
the
edge
of
her
bra
and
freed
her
    breast,
cupping
it,
fondling
it.
Now
his
breathing
sped,
too.
It
was
just
a
bit,
and
if
Sarah
    hadn’t
been
paying
attention
she
would
never
have
heard
it.
    “I’m
not
a
thing,”
she
said,
tipping
her
chin
toward
the
ceiling
to
allow
his
lips
access
to
    the
throbbing,
hot
pulse
point
of
her
neck.
“No
one
can
claim
me.”
    “ Te
llevaré .”
    “I
don’t
think
so.
I
can
take
care
of
myself.”
    “I
don’t
think
so.
I
think
you’re
missing
certain…”
    And
up
she
went.
His
free
hand
burrowed
under
her
rear
and
in
a
jerk,
she
was
on
his
    lap
feeling
the
dull
stab
of
his
erection.
    “… equipment ,”
he
finished.
    Damn.
    Just
her
luck,
right?
She’d
thought
it
was
a
goddamned
riot
when
Dana
hooked
up
with
    Patrick
in
the
middle
of
a
case.
Sarah
thought
she’d
never
be
susceptible
to
such
a
thing.
She
    was
too
independent
and
too
aggressive.
If
she
wanted
a
man,
she
could
have
had
one.
That
    had
never
taken
her
much
effort.
Where
the
real
effort
came
into
play
was
what
happened
    after that
first
roll
in
the
hay.
They
always
clung.
No
matter
how
tough
they
made
    themselves
out
to
be,
she
seemed
to
have
a
knack
for
picking
the
needy
ones—the
ones
    who
wanted
constant
coddling
and
reassurance.
The
ones
who
wouldn’t
go
away.
    She
didn’t
understand