“I did,” I admitted, tilting my chin up. I was a grown-ass woman who owned her pleasure. I shouldn’t and wouldn’t be ashamed of using a vibrator.
He smiled. “That pleases me.”
Good lord, if he said it like that, I might live the rest of my life to please him.
“Your turn,” I rasped, my heart hammering under my rib cage.
“When I got home, I took off my suit and headed for my bathroom. Turning on the water, I stepped into the shower. I wrapped my hand around my cock and jacked off, picturing your full mouth around my cock.” Breath swished out of my lungs. “It’s the hardest I’ve ever come.” His dark eyes held mine as he ran his fingertips down my cheek. “Imagine how hard I’ll come with you underneath me.”
His gaze dropped to my lips, and my sex clenched.
My whole body heated, imagining him thrusting into me, and a shiver rolled down my spine.
He isn’t even subtle about it—every look, every deliberate pause screaming that it’s only a matter of time.
Before I could decide whether to bristle or bolt, his expression shifted. The heat in his gaze dimmed, replaced by something guarded.
A faint frown creased his brow as he stepped back, creating space between us like a line he’d abruptly decided not to cross.
He blinked once, resetting himself, and said, “We should get going.”
I stared at him.
We—What?
Kian turned toward the door and called out something in Albanian, his voice clipped and authoritative. Almost immediately, the door opened and Amir stepped inside, already reaching for my suitcases.
“The car is ready,” he muttered. His eyes swept over Kian with the thoroughness of a bodyguard taking inventory, surveying him for blood, bruises, or anything out of place.
I couldn’t contain my eye roll.
Grabbing my purse and clutching it, I turned back to Kian, still flustered while trying to understand the sudden change in atmosphere.
“You attempt to kill me, Kian,” I said loud enough for Amir to hear me, “and you’re a dead man.”
His mouth curved into a slow, knowing smirk. Amir shot me an unimpressed glare.
And all along, I knew resisting this man and his charms under the scorching Albanian sun would be hard, but under his roof would make it impossible
But rather than voice my thoughts, I smiled sweetly and said, “I’m so ready. Let’s go.”
Kian’s villa was practically a Mediterranean mansion, perched high on a cliff overlooking the sea, all pale stone and sun-warmed terraces. At least fifteen acres of manicured grounds surrounded it—olive trees twisted with age, bursts of bougainvillea spilling hot pink over white walls, and narrow gravel paths winding through fragrant rosemary and lavender down to the beach.
Beyond the outer gates, the property bordered my hotel, but the villa itself felt like a world apart. A veryprivateworld apart.
I slowed as we stepped inside the luxury home, my eyes struggling to keep up.
“This place is—” I started.
“Big,” Kian said dryly, shutting the heavy door behind us. “Yes.”
I shot him a look. “I was going to sayridiculous.”
He huffed a quiet laugh and motioned me forward. “Come on. I’ll show you around before you get lost.”
Inside, cool terracotta tiles spread beneath my feet and sunlight streamed through arched windows, turning the white walls almost golden. Linen curtains stirred lazily in the breeze and dark wooden beams crossed the high ceiling like something out of a magazine spread I’d never be able to afford even on my generous salary.
“This doesn’t even feel real,” I murmured.
