A whole-body shiver runs through me. “We don’t have a future.” But that feels like the world’s biggest lie. “This is just sex.”
He presses harder into me, and my pussy thrums back to life. “You’re a little liar, siren. Your body is betraying you.”
“It’s just sex,” I protest again, weaker.
“And what wondrous sex it is.”
He steps back from me, and I nearly fall into him, chasing after his touch, before I catch myself. “You’ll have no other partner than me.”
“What?”
My brain is struggling to catch up. How the hell had we gotten to the “exclusive” clause of our relationship? But this isn’t a relationship; itisjust sex.
Mind-blowing sex.
Primal, carnal, dirty sex.
However, the thought of anyone else touching me—in this club or outside its walls—is all kinds of wrong. But I’m not telling him that, because that would only fuel his possessive and smug ego.
“There will be no other man or woman who touches, licks, sucks, or fucks you,” he orders. “None that you touch, lick, suck, or fuck either. And no one gets to see you.”
Well, I guess he’s possessiveandthorough.
I wish I could see his face right now, mainly so I could slap off the smug smirk that I know is on it.
But I see an out—not that I want one, but still. If I’m unmasked, he won’t know it’s me if I’m breaking his rules.
He tilts his head. “I’ll know it’s you, siren, even without your mask.”
So he’s a mind reader now, too.
“I’ll always know it’s you.” His eyes rake over my body. My dress is back to hiding all my lady bits, but I feel naked and exposed. “And I’ll know if you have anyone at your hotel.”
Alarm jolts through me.
How does he know I’m staying at a hotel? Did he follow me the other night when I ran from here?
His hands close, like he’s unhappy that he revealed that little tidbit of information. But he presses on. “And I want to fuck you bare.”
“No.” My answer is immediate and firm.
“I’ll provide you with test results showing that I’m clean.”
“It’s still a hard pass.”
“Why?”
“You don’t get to ask that.” My voice trembles slightly.
I need to get out of this room and away from him. Not because I’m afraid of him, even though I should be after he revealed he knows I’m staying at a hotel, but because I’m deeply unnerved.
Deeply unnerved by my body’s response to him, how I want to submit still and let him do whatever he wants, and because it continues to feel like he sees right through my mask and knows who I am.
Because if he did follow me to my hotel, then he might actually know who I am. Although, on the hotel reservation, I’m Kathryn Wentzell, and she has no ties to Leeva Malone.
His tall, strong body relaxes, and he gently cups my chin. “I’ll see you here tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night doesn’t work for me.”
