He snorts and picks a blade of grass. ‘I tried when I was younger – at least I thought I was trying. I didn’t make time for them, didn’t make an effort, didn’t share shit. We never talked like this. You should feel well special.’ He laughs impishly and I push him. ‘I know my lane and it suits me fine.’
I arch an eyebrow. ‘Shagging models every Sunday?’
His grin widens. ‘Nah, flirting withoutrageousChelsea girls.’
My hand flies to my chest. ‘Chelseagirl?’ I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended. Visions of when I used to watchMade in Chelseaflash back and I very quickly decide it’s the latter. They’re hyper-privileged, frivolous, two-faced socialites swathed in designer. ‘You’re so wrong about me.’
‘I know. Might be why I can’t stay away.’
Chapter 15
MINNIE
The world stills as we lock eyes, the air between us shifting. He’s not smiling anymore. His eyes flicker to my lips and I lick them, watching hunger burn in his gaze. Feelings I thought were long extinguished steal every last gasp of oxygen from my lungs.
We crash together, a mess of need and tongues and vulnerability and reward. He tugs me tightly against him, fingers pressing into my back. I come up for air and his lips travel to my neck, making me sigh with pleasure. Everywhere he touches burns after he moves on. I’m melting, limb by limb.
Chest heaving, I drag his face back to mine. ‘It’s only a two-seater.’
His lips curl into a wicked smile. ‘There’s a lot we can do in a two-seater.’
He jumps to his feet and I let out a strangled yelp as he scoops me over his shoulder with surprising ease. He opens the passenger door, bends us both down, and I hear a coil sound. The fact that he’s basically back-pressing me makes him rival even the most fantastical shadow daddy. Gently, I’m deposited on the seat, which has been rolled so far back it’s almost in the boot. Before I can wonder why, he’s climbing into the footwell.
‘The World Champion, kneeling before me,’ I remark.
He anchors his hands on the outside of my legs and rises until we’re eye-level. ‘Two-timeWorld Champion.’ His fingers press against my core through my cycling shorts, dragging a squeak from my lips. Lord, he wastes no time.
I ready myself to guide him through basic foreplay as I do with most men, but Jack’s lazy, tantalising strokes prove he needs no guidance. I clutch the seat and fight the urge to rock my hips. His ego’s big enough as it is.
‘How’s that?’ His voice alone, all gravelly and thick, has the power to send me somewhere I don’t know if I have the confidence to go in front of him.
‘Fine,’ I manage, but it’s embarrassingly strained.
How can I be this horny with my clothes on? I’m so wet there’s no knowing where I end and my thong begins.
His thumb presses against my opening, making me start. ‘And now?’
The knowledge that he knows what and where –without looking– is treacherous. More than one past partner has asked if I was close whilst poking my thigh.
I swallow. ‘Mhm.’
His smile’s nothing short of pornographic.
Just when I thought it couldn’t feel any better without stripping off, he cranes forward and drags his teeth gently down my seam.
I shoot up and grab the headrest. ‘I can take them o?—’
‘If I want something, Roberts,’ he murmurs, looking up from beneath his lashes, ‘I’ll make it happen.’
Before I can mock his arrogance, he licksthere, then he suckshard. Fuck his ego; I throw my head back and grip him, holding him in place. I can feel his smile against me. If he can do this much damage with shorts on, I’m a ruined woman.
He does it again and I cry out.
‘Alright, Roberts, I think you’ve earned it.’
I’m a sensitive bundle of nerves as I watch him take his time unzipping my skirt and sliding it off. His fingers slip under the band of my shorts and my hips lift of their own accord. Finally, my thong, which he treats with reverence. It’s the most thoroughly I’ve been touched possibly ever.
He glances up from the footwell. I must be a sight, all splayed with naked legs akimbo. It’s dark, but he can probably see where my razor missed, and the stretchmarks on my thighs. I don’t know how my body compares to the hundreds of models he’s probably shag?—
