Framing Felipe by Holley Trent Page B

Felipe.
Didn’t
know
anything
about
him,
really,
but
at
that
    moment
wouldn’t
mind
so
much
watching
him
strip
those
clothes
off.
Wouldn’t
mind
    seeing
if
he
had
what
it
took
to
take
control.
And
if
he
did,
then
what?
    That
was
the
scary
part.
    Somehow,
she
found
her
breath
and
pressed
her
hands
against
his
chest.
She
gave
him
    an
ineffectual
push
backward.
“Let
go
of
me,”
she
whispered.
    Maybe
it
was
the
tone
of
her
voice,
but
he
didn’t
resist.
The
hand
that
massaged
her
    breast
retreated
from
her
shirt
and
the
other—the
one
gripping
her
waist—fell
away.

    FRAMING FELIPE
–
35
–
Holley Trent

    She
stood,
blowing
out
a
breath
while
assessing
his
too-‐calm
expression.
He
    understood
limits.
Good.
After
six
weeks
undercover
at
that
strip
club,
she
was
especially
    guarded
of
her
personal
space.
All
the
groping
and
unprovoked
fondling
angered
her
at
    first,
but
then
she
learned
to
compartmentalize—to
push
the
sensations
to
the
back
of
her
    mind.
To
make
them
nothing.
    She
didn’t
like
that
this
man
she
didn’t
know
had
broken
down
that
wall
of
hers
so
    quickly.
She felt .
Oh
boy
did
she
feel.
She
wasn’t
sure
she
wanted
to.
    He
reached
for
his
water,
his
gaze
still
locked
on
hers
as
he
unscrewed
the
cap.
    “Looking
at
you
makes
me
want
to
have
a
home,”
he
said.
    “What
do
you
mean?”
    He
raised
one
dark
blond
eyebrow
as
he
drank,
his
expression
rife
with Do
I
really
need
    to
spell
it
out?
    “Well?”
she
pushed.
    The
bottle
now
empty,
he
set
it
down
and
eased
those
fabulous
lips
into
a
smirk.
“I
    think
you
need
someone
to
go
home
to
every
night
who’ll
take
away
all
the
reins
you’re
    holding.
Give
you
fewer
choices
to
make.”
    “Sounds
a
lot
like
chauvinist
bullshit
to
me.”
    He
chuckled
and
stood,
reaching
his
arms
overhead
and
stretching
his
back.
His
shirt
    rode
up
to
display
his
rock-‐hard
belly,
so
smooth
and
hairless,
and
seemingly
on
its
own
    volition,
her
hand
reached
out
and
pulled
back
his
waistband.
    She’d
intended
to
just
steal
a
quick
peek
to
confirm
how
far
down
that
hairlessness
    went,
but
one
glimpse
turned
into
a
long
stare.
    “Oh
my…”
    It
was
like
she
was
frozen.
Couldn’t
move.
Couldn’t
stop
looking.
    He
didn’t
respond
other
than
to
gently
push
her
hair
back
from
her
eyes
and
tuck
it
    behind
her
ear.
    That
did
it.
She
let
go
of
his
waistband,
and
loped
away,
cringing
at
her
behavior,
and
    mumbling,
“Oh
my
God.
Oh
my
God.”
    She
paused
at
the
closet
to
retrieve
the
aluminum
case
she’d
deposited
there
the
day
    before,
and
pretended
to
be
very
busy
searching
for
something.
She
strived
for
coolness,

    FRAMING FELIPE
–
36
–
Holley Trent

    but
with
her
blood
drumming
loud
in
her
ears
and
legs
somewhat
wobbly,
she
wasn’t
sure
    if
she
was
modeling
the
desired
effect.
    “ Permiso ,
Sarah,”
he
said
in
that
same
low
whisper
as
before.
He
stood
mere
inches
    from
her
back,
but
didn’t
touch
her,
thank
God.
    With
him
being
so
close,
her
body’s
hyperawareness
of
his
raised
the
hairs
on
her
neck.
    Her
sex
ached
at
thoughts
of
the
sort
of
ravaging
she
imagined
him
capable
of.
The
imagery
    flashed
through
her
mind—him
pressing
her
against
the
wall,
yanking
down
her
pants,
    having
his
fill
of
her
and
leaving
her
breathless.
Eyes
closed,
she
sucked
in
a
bolstering
    breath,
and
told
her
body
“No”
until
it
believed
it.
    When
she
thought
she
was
in
control
of
her
expression,
she
opened
her
eyes
and
    turned
to
face
him.