I feel so silly. I don’t know a thing about seducing men. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Sighing, I stare up at the ceiling and think about all the crap that’s happened in the last ten hours. The messages, all my pretty things destroyed, the Kings stomping in and taking over,all my pretty things destroyed, Journey lying on my floor, and ALL my pretty things destroyed. I know, I know! I sound like a broken record, but who can blame me?
It’s just stuff. That’s what they always say, right?
It’s just stuff. It can be replaced.
And I know they’re right, whoever “they” are, but it was MY stuff.
My heart sinks.
And now it’s all gone.
Rolling onto my side, the first tear falls. It took years to build my collections and now I have to start all over again. A small sob spills past my lips, and I press my hand over my mouth, desperate to hold it all in, but it’s pointless. The sadness flows out.
The bed dips behind me, and an arm wraps around my waist. “Shhhh. It’s okay, princess.” Journey’s voice rumbles against my ear as he pulls me against him.
I shake my head, the tears coming faster now. “It’s not okay.”
He pulls me tighter against his chest, his skin warm against my back through the thin cotton of my shirt. “No, it’s not,” he sighs. “But it will be.”
I twist around in the circle of his arm. “How do you know?”
He licks his lips and my eyes are drawn to the movement. God, he’s beautiful.
“Because I’ll make it so it’s okay,” he promises, his voice rough.
“Oh.” My breathing picks up.
His arm flexes, and the air between us goes static.
“June,” he growls.
Drawn in like a moth to a flame, I touch my lips against his.
Journey’s body goes ramrod straight, and I freeze.
I peek up through my lashes, and my breath catches at the storm building in his eyes. Then, suddenly, a deep rumble rolls up his chest, and his lips crash against mine.
My breath catches, and my lips part in surprise. He seizes the opening and slips his tongue into my mouth. The kiss is everything I’ve ever dreamed about—slow, wet, and so, so hot.
He fists my hair in one hand as the other slides over my bottom and squeezes the flesh.
God, yes! I moan into his mouth, my body wound tight, burning for more.
His hand slides up my hip and under my shirt, calloused fingers skimming across my skin. I arch into his touch as his palm covers my breast, thumb brushing across my nipple.
“Oh,” I gasp, breaking the kiss. That feels amazing.
His mouth trails down my neck, nipping and sucking, and I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me.
“Please,” I beg, desperate for more.
His hand slides lower across my belly, fingers slipping beneath the elastic of my thong. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
Then suddenly, his hand stills and he lifts his head.
“What?” I ask, breathless and confused. “Why’d you stop?”
