~*JUNE*~
So much for self-control.
My brain has officially flatlined, and my instincts are running the entire show.
It makes no sense—why the f**k is my pulse skyrocketing just because Mr. Macaulay is a few inches away?
And, worst of all, I can’t seem to stop grabbing every tiny opportunity to look at him.
My eyes keep drifting sideways, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the way his throat moves when he swallows, and the spread of his thighs in those expensive pants.
I catch myself staring at his hand resting on his knee. Instantly, the memory of that same hand wrapped around his thick c**k in my dream, stroking slowly and deliberately, burns into my mind.
A blush creeps from my neck and rises in my cheeks.
Despite the intense cold in the car, I feel the heat radiating off his bod
