I dig my heels into the bed and arch my hips, the recollection of his words an echo in my ear.
You’re so sexy.
I can’t wait to fuck you.
My thighs tremble as the images begin to flash in my head. His hands on me. The taste of my arousal from his tongue. The way his brows draw tight, his gaze one of pure focus and intensity. I screw my eyes tight, my insides beginning to pulse as I imagine his cock slamming into me and—
Something, and awareness, cause my eyes to blink open, my hand retracting from my pyjama pants like I’d, well, like I’d been caught touching myself.
Because I have.
Because Beckett stands at the doorway, his expression inscrutable.
With a groan that’s probably closer to a whimper, I roll onto my side away from the sight of him.
Chapter 31
BECKETT
‘Don’t stop.’ The words come without thought but, fuck me, I mean them. I drop my T-shirt to the floor, and in a half dozen steps, the bed is dipping under my weight. Whatever I did to deserve a welcome like this, I’m not certain. In fact, after today, I probably deserve never to touch her again.
But we don’t always get what we deserve. It’s often the opposite, and that’s certainly true as I lay my hand on the curve of her hip.
She was touching herself. In my bed.
‘Pretend I’m not here, unless...’ Unless the reason she’s lying on my bed touching herself is because she was imagining the opposite.
Is she wearing my aftershave?
At the realisation, the confirmation, a fiery thrill courses through my bloodstream. Unless... unless this is some kind offuck yougesture after my ridiculous declaration. And if that’s the case, not only do I deserve it, but I’ll also take my punishment because the sight of her owning her own pleasure is like nothing else on this earth.
‘Olivia.’ Her name is an appeal for mercy—a plea for her to continue with my punishment.
‘Go away.’ She presses her face deeper into the mattress, curling herself into an even tighter ball.
‘I can’t, darling. You’re in my bed.’
‘Like you need to remind me of that,’ she almost groans.
But, Christ, the sight of her as I’d entered the room. Midnight satin in a sea of stark linens. Pink flushed cheeks and titan hair fanned out against the pillows. Someone should paint her like this to preserve the image for posterity. Except I might have to blind the artist. Because that sight was only for me.
Except it wasn’t. Something unpleasant twists in the pit of my gut. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, my hand tightening on her hip as though my touch could convey the truth of it. I lashed out and punished her because I couldn’t punish myself enough.I can never punish myself enough. Although the last ninety minutes in the gym was the usual precursor to the spiral of self-loathing.
‘I thought you didn’t ever apologise.’ I don’t. Yet I have. But not for the reasons she’s thinking.
‘Actually, I retract that statement. I’m not sorry.’ How can I be sorry for this? For finding her in my bed.
‘Just go. Away.Please.’
‘I’ve told you I can’t. You’re in my bed. In my bed, touching yourself.’ Under my hand, she flinches. I bring my bare feet up onto the mattress, curling myself behind her. ‘Watching you get yourself off was like a glimpse of the forbidden. A peek at heaven.’
‘Fine. You got your peek. Please leave and let me end this.’ Desire radiates from my chest, manifesting itself in a growl. ‘Not like that.’ Her denial is immediate. ‘I meant leave me so I can die from my humiliation.’
‘Stop.’ There’s steel in the word. ‘Stop pretending to be embarrassed. You know you did this to punish me.’
‘What?’ She turns her head over her shoulder, offering me her angry profile. But I can work with angry over embarrassed. Twist it into something that works for both of us.
‘I deserve this.’ I press her hip, encouraging her onto her back. ‘This punishment.’
