So why does this woman on my fucking lap make me want to throw every single rule I’ve ever followed out the fucking window? It’s not good, and it sure as shit isn’t healthy. She could tear everything I’ve ever worked for to the ground, and I would still crawl back to her. I understand what this emotion is—it’s lust. And I’m fucking balls deep in it. Falling and unable to get up. But the thing with lust is that it eventually ends.
I just have to remember to be strong.
But she makes me weak.
A weak man who wants to get on his hands and knees and worship her, with or without the pain. I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.
A few people glance our way. I didn’t mention she was coming because if she didn’t show up, there would have been questions, and I didn’t want to fucking answer them. I’m very glad she did show up though. Having her sleep in my arms last night made me realize how much she’s getting to me, and I’m letting it happen.
I’ve always enjoyed the pleasure of strangling a woman, so I’m utterly confused. Why is it so different with her? It has to be a serious case of lust.
When you lust for another person, you have a strong desire for a physical connection with them. You’re attracted to the way they look and constantly thinking about touching them. But the thing with lust is that there is no long-term connection. It’s just in the moment.
So that’s what we have.
Lust.
And I don’t want anyone else touching what’s mine.
“Do you plan to offer me a drink?” she asks, raising a brow.
“Of course. Margarita?” I reply as I wave the waitress down. Cora nods, and I order her two so she doesn’t have to wait. “Did you miss me this morning?” I ask, my hand finding her bare thigh.
“Well, I was expecting to wake up to you between my legs,” she replies, none too quietly.
Someone coughs, and I can’t help but smirk.
“We can arrange that for next time,” I tell her.
“Isn’t that Delaney’s boyfriend?” She points at James.
“It is.”
“So, you’re the woman who’s been keeping Arlo here busy,” I hear Rupert say. He’s a good psychologist, and I’ve enjoyed working with him over the years.
“Unless he’s seeing someone else, yes,” she answers, then turns back to me.
I squeeze her leg, letting her know that no one can compete with her, as I tell her, “No other women.”
And she smiles before she leans in and kisses me.
Perhaps lust isn’t the correct definition.
THIRTY-FIVE
CORA
While I drink my two margaritas, I sit on his lap. He holds me there, even when I try to move to sit next to him. He doesn’t care that everyone is watching us. He’s sinfully sexy, dangerous, intelligent, and powerful, yet when he looks at me like he is right now, I’ve never felt more desired, wanted, or claimed. I’ve also never felt so swept up with any man before.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asks just before he bites my earlobe.
“Yes.” I go to stand, and he lets me this time.
A waitress comes over and whispers something to him about an incident that needs his attention, and I tell him I’ll wait out front.
“Stay inside, I won’t be long.”
I agree, then wait by the front door as requested until I notice someone I know standing outside, smoking a cigarette.
