‘Is that right?’ I reach for his belt buckle as he tugs my bra down, spilling my breasts over the top of it. His mouth captures my nipple, and I let out a gasp. ‘How did you imagine me exactly?
‘Cold. Unresponsive. In need of corrupting.’ His teeth nip at my sensitive flesh, sending shivers rocketing through my entire body.
‘And now?’
‘Now I think you’re the hottest woman I’ve ever met. If anything, you and your list are corruptingme.’
‘Oh, I doubt that somehow. I saw the tabloids. A different woman every few weeks. How many have stood in this very spot, listening to the same words?’ My head rolls back blissfully as his tongue travels lower towards my belly button.
‘None. I never bring women home. I promise, that’s the truth.’
‘Never?’
He shakes his head as a tingling sensation courses from my head to my toes and everywhere in between. I’m flattered. And seriously struggling to discern what this even means for us.
I don’t get a moment longer to contemplate it.
Raw possessiveness blazes in his eyes as he drops to his knees before me. ‘But was that jealousy I detected in your tone?’ he asks.
Lie. Lie. Lie. Jealousy equals caring past the immediate physical gratification. Caring equals vulnerability. I swore I would never leave myself vulnerable again after Ethan.
But my body doesn’t know how to lie to him. My pelvis arches longingly and he grins.
‘Say it, Princess, and I’ll make you come so hard they’ll hear you back in Sydney.’ He unzips my skirt, and it falls to the floor, leaving me in just the lace and high strappy stilettos.
I don’t know why I fight it. I might be assertive in the bedroom, the kitchen, or wherever else he takes me, but he’s always in control. And he has an uncanny knack of extracting the truth from me, even if his methods aren’t entirely fair.
‘I’m jealous of every woman who came before me.’
His mouth presses against my inner thigh. It travels upwards until his tongue darts expertly around the scrap of material. Every single cell in my body jolts to life. I’m hopelessly addicted to his touch. ‘Just as I’ll be jealous of every man who comes after me,’ he mumbles
After?
I’ve deliberately pushed the thought of life after Jayden from my brain because it doesn’t bear thinking about.
I don’t want to give him up. Not now. Probably never. I don’t want to give up the phone calls and the stolen dinners. But most of all, I don’t want to give up being truly seen. Understood. Appreciated. Cherished. Because even though this was supposed to only be sex, that’s exactly how Jayden makes me feel.
My hands rake through his inky hair as he glides his tongue through my centre, up and down, relentlessly bringing me to the brink of an explosive release. ‘You’re unbelievably talented with that tongue.’
I feel his smug grin against my sex, but I don’t care. My lust is primal. Blinding. As my orgasm crests, washing over me, I’m already thinking how I can get my next fix.
It’s official. I’m ruined.
In one swift motion, he’s up from his knees and hoisting me onto the marble counter.
‘I know you said toys, Princess, but will this one do until I get you upstairs?’ He pushes his length at my entrance, and I yank the lace to one side in response.
The man’s a mind reader on top of everything else.
‘I’m beginning to realise toys are overrated. Give me the real deal.’
He slides in, gently easing himself into my space, and something unspoken passes between us. An intimacy that goes way beyond anything we agreed. It’s etched into every line of his face, a tenderness I never believed he was capable of.
‘This is the real deal, Princess.’
He’s right. Itisthe real deal. The world around me falls away into nothingness. And there’s no denying I have feelings for him.
My insides ignite with a stupid but incessant spark of hope when there really is none. Even if I wasn’t such a staunch commitment-phobe, Jayden most certainly is.
