Kes asked, “Where is he?”
“Where’s who?” I looked around at the sprawling mayhem before us. Normally the large expanse of gravel at the front of the Hall was empty. Not so this morning.
Two large horse trucks blotted out the garden with their black sides and gold-gilded hawk crest. Three 4WDs dotted around, some with doors opened, others with their boots wide and being filled with equipment by quickly moving staff.
Kes snorted. “Who do you think? That brother of mine.”
“Oh, him. I guess he had to change.”
“Change?” His eyebrows shot up. Cut and Daniel stood off a little way, both dressed in suits with a black leather jacket. They looked so similar, so removed from the normal human race.
“Why would he have to change?”
“Because I took another shower quite by accident,” a masculine voice said behind me.
I bristled, not looking over my shoulder. The hair on the back ofmy neck stood up having Jethro so close. I might’ve been able to push away my never-enjoyed orgasm, but I didn’t want to be too near. “There, he answered your question.”
Twisting my fingers from Kes’s hold, I said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go see if the staff needs any help with that picnic basket.” Without waiting for permission, I disappeared down the steps and beelined for the two women in white pinafores struggling with a hamper.
Up close, I noticed the 4WDs were the newest model Land Rovers, and the horse trucks were ridiculously glitzy. How many diamonds did the Hawks smuggle to afford all this?
I jumped as a large hand splayed on my lower back.
Jethro didn’t look down, preferring to keep his attention on a stable boy carrying saddle blankets. “Did you finish?”
I flinched, trying to move away from his touch. “That’s none of your business.”
Jethro moved with me, his fingertips digging into the tense muscles at the base of my spine. “None of my business? I think it is.” He lowered his voice, his eyes still avoiding mine. “You see, I need to know if the woman who belongs to me is wet and panting for a release. We’ll be in public today, Ms. Weaver. Having someone who’s as hungry to come as you were in that shower is a matter of public security.”
His lips twisted as he finally bowed his head to look into my eyes. “So, tell me...did you finger yourself until your cunt squeezed, all while fantasising it was my cock riding you—my cock slamming inside you? Or did you pretend you weren’t that sort of girl and stop playing with yourself?”
“Shut up,” I hissed. My eyes darted to the staff who crunched across the gravel in front of us. Jethro wasn’t exactly quiet—anyone could hear if they tried hard enough.
Hard.
God, even innocent words painted lewd pictures inside my head. Images of Jethro’s hard cock consumed me, and my heart hurled itself against my ribs. All my efforts at pushing down the ache between my legs was in vain. In a few sentences, Jethro had made me sopping wet and trembling with lust.
Again.
Damn man has super powers.
“Answer me, Ms. Weaver.”
My hands balled and I snapped, “No. I didn’t. Satisfied? I was too angry at you for saying I suck at lying. You’re the one who’s terrible.” I laughed, adding, “Congratulations on winning the hypocritical award.” I mentally patted myself on the back for using my remembered reproach.
Jethro rolled his eyes. “How long have you been waiting to use that?”
Damn him, he stole any joy I might’ve had from one-upping him. His hand moved to clutch my hip, tugging me closer. “By the way, I believe if there is an award for such a thing, it would go to you.”
Don’t ask. Do not ask why.
It pained me to hold my chin high and not grab his bait, but I managed it. Just.
Jethro huffed, annoyed that I didn’t play along. “Fine...if you’re going to be like that.” Letting me go, he turned to leave but brushed his lips against my ear. “If I’m rock hard and in pain after fantasising of fucking you; if I can barely see straight from imagining my cock sliding in and out of your heat, I’m sure as hell going to grab my dick and throttle it until I come so hard it looks like fucking snow.”
Pressing a chaste kiss on my cheekbone, he murmured, “Think about that next time you’re riding a showerhead and just call me. I’ll put you out of your misery, but it won’t come for free.”
My mouth hung open. My womb ached in a way I hadn’t felt before—heavy, tender—a call for more than just sex but the primal need to have a man fill me.
