His expression shifted, something new and alluring crossing his face. Without ceremony, he lowered himself onto her bed, the mattress sinking beneath the sudden addition of his weight.
“What about if I stayed here?” he asked her, his hand moving from her cheek to the bare skin of her leg. He stroked her calfthoughtfully, before his fingers moved to caress her inner thigh. “Is there anything here that could be all mine if I wanted it?”
She swallowed as her skin erupted with tiny goosebumps at his touch. “I have yesterday’s Szechuan in my fridge.”
He chuckled at that. “I do like spice.” He took hold of her hand, squeezing her fingers before interlocking them with his own. He brought them to his lips, kissing them, before releasing her hand once more. “But I think I’d like you more.”
Bo’s heart thumped wildly within her chest. Abruptly, she found herself fantasizing about running her fingers through his messy hair or kissing the heavy lids of his eyes. She imagined being pinned down by Max, helpless as he took his fill of her body. She imagined the feel of his arms around her, the weight of his body between her thighs. She imagined all this in the three seconds it took for Max to pull his shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor beside them. He then leaned over her, caging her body beneath his own.
“Are you sure?” she asked, turning her head and sighing as he bent down, running his lips along the curve of her collarbone. “It’s Szechuan. I’m pretty sure there are still some of the good bits left in it too. It’s not all sauce.”
At that, he pulled on the hem of her own shirt. “I thought you said you’d covered all the good bits?” There was a knowing grin on his face, and Bo coloured.
He’s enjoying this,she thought to herself.He’s taunting me . . . and I’m . . . I’mintoit.
It was another revelation to her but she put it to the back of her mind to be turned over for further thought later. Now was not the time to be psycho-analysing her sexual preferences. Now was not the time for self-reflection or whipping out her phone to search for a Reddit thread about kink. Not when Max was pulling her to a sitting position and stripping her shirt from her body, while she, doll-like, let him.
“You know, I don’t think I like you very much,” she remarked, even as he pushed her body back to the mattress, running a hand appreciatively over the mounds of her chest. She moaned, arching her back into his touch. “I don’t think I like you very much at all.”
Max didn’t even pause, tugging her vest down so that her breasts were revealed to him. His eyes roamed over her hungrily, and he gave her a languid shrug.
“Maybe not. But you’re still going to let me fuck you, right?”
He didn’t wait for a reply, bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth, and so rather than chastise him for his arrogance, rather than ejecting him from her room to sleep on the dry grass outside, she threaded her fingers into his hair and hugged his mouth to her.
“Mmm,” she mumbled incoherently, and Max, damn him, released her nipple with a wet pop.
“Right?” he asked again, looking her directly in the eye, and she realized, with an odd thrill, that he wasn’t going to let her get away without answering him.
For a moment she considered dragging the verbal sparring match out a little further. For a moment she thought about sitting up, pushing him away and playing the game for a few minutes more. Max, seemingly reading her hesitation, leaned back and away from her.
Inexplicably, she missed the feeling of his skin against hers.
Max reached down, taking hold of her right foot in both hands.
“Max, what are you—?” she started to ask him, before he silenced her question by kissing the delicate skin of her ankle.
“Women never cease to amaze me,” he said softly, his timbre low and seductive. “You honestly think covering your body with a shirt hides the ‘good bits’ from me? What you don’t understand, sweetheart, is that the bits of you like this,”he kissed her ankle once more, “and this,” he added, his mouth moving up her calf, “are just as sexy and good to me as any other.”
“Max,” she whispered, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Your fingers, your eyes, your knees,” Max carried on, and now he kissed the skin of her inner thigh, “they’re all beautiful. Everything about you, to me, isgood.”
She nodded mutely.
“So, maybe you don’t like me, but you’re still going to let me fuck you, right? Because a body like yours, withallof its good bits, deserves my attention. Right, sweetheart?”
She stared at him with wide eyes.
“Right?” he asked again.
This time, she didn’t hesitate. “Right,” she said. “You’re absolutely right.”
Chapter One
Dear Ms Armstrong,
I am writing to you as the executor of Sir Geoffrey Nesbit’s estate, following his passing earlier this year. I understand that this is a challenging time, and my aim is to manage the estate’s affairs with as much clarity and sensitivity as possible.
