I look up and nearly drown in his eyes. There’s so much wanting there that it’s a surprise I don’t melt into a puddle at his feet. And I know that I can’t go on without telling him how I feel.
But before I do that, I have to square things with my best friend, beg her to tell him what she’s planning.
By midnight tonight, I vow to myself, I’ll have it all sorted. With her and him.
Chapter 16
Jasmine
“I think this warrants a private discussion,” he says, before dragging me from the corridor. And I know, by the shivers I feel down my spine, that every gaze is on us. He’s usually such a private person but he doesn’t seem to care right now at all.
The study door closes with a hard thud and Mr. Grayson presses me to it. Not fully caging me but letting me know I’m at his mercy. And God, if it isn’t the best feeling I’ve ever known in my life. As if programmed to his scent and heat, my core awakens, damp and ready for him.
My chest rises and falls like I’ve just run a marathon when he bends and rubs his cheek against mine. “I’ve missed you, little bird.”
I throw my arms around his neck and press into him. “I’ve missed you too,” I say, breathing my words into his neck. Such pure longing and love overwhelm me that tears knock behind my eyelids. “No one’s ever thrown me a party before.”
He continues rubbing his cheek against mine, his hands coasting over my sides, my hips, my back. As if he can’t stop touching me. “That should be a crime. Sophie said you alwaysstopped her. I told you, Jasmine, you have to let people spoil you, show you what you mean to them. There isn’t always a price.”
“I know there isn’t. With you.”
“You do?”
“Absolutely. I’m just...not good at accepting it.” My fingers tremble as I lightly trace the shape of his upper lip. “I can’t believe you went to all that trouble, and you were just about to throw them out.”
“One word from you and theywill begone.”
“What, all of them? Even your brother and his very pregnant wife?” I say, loving the fact that I can touch him like this.
“Especially Zayn. He’s been strutting around like a bloody rooster since Sasha got pregnant,” he says, pushing into my clasp. “Then you can cut the cake with me and Sophie, drink a little champagne, do whatever rituals you two do for your birthday bonding, then come to my bedroom after you sing her a lullaby. Sound like a plan?”
“That’s so tempting,” I say with a sigh. “I’ve never been in your bedroom. Though I’ve stolen peeks at it, from time to time. I’ve had a dream or two about being stuck under you in that enormous bed.”
My admission makes his gray eyes blaze. He pins me against the door with his lower body, his erection a brand against my belly. “So, when you’re stuck under me, were you trying to get away?”
Molten dampness gushes at my core. “No, I was only pretending to want to get away. So that you’d take me roughly.” My whispered admission makes the air around us tight, hot.
“Where do you get these filthy ideas from?” he says, eyes dancing with something I don’t recognize.
Heat fills my cheeks. Just a few more hours and he will have all my secrets. “Here and there,” I say, my evasion a tangiblething between us. “Does it bother you that I…” I clear my throat, a spot of shame that I can’t budge from the center of my chest, “that I have these kinds of fantasies about you?”
He laughs then and the warm sound is pure magic to my heart. “I love that you spin these things about me, little bird.” He sprinkles a line of kisses down my wrist. “Is that what you want for your birthday then? That hot little scenario played out, in my bed?”
I stretch up to my toes and kiss the corner of his mouth. And it hits me, that he hasn’t still kissed me.
He’s made me come so violently that I nearly blacked out, made love to me as if he owns me, stamped his possession on my skin but he still hasn’t kissed me. “No, I want something else from you.”
His eyes narrow before searching mine. “What?”
“A kiss,” I whisper. “All this time, you haven’t kissed me once. And I don’t think it’s a natural oversight.”
“You think I don’t kiss you on purpose?”
“Don’t you?” I say, pure demand in my tone. All my insecurities come pouring out of me in a wave. All the things that I can’t control—like Sophie leaving—make me reckless. “Is it some generational quirk that I don’t know about? That you don’t kiss the young pussy you’re losing your mind over? That you save it for someone special?”
“That’s what you think, huh?”
I shrug, my heart in my throat.
