“That… was…” He kneels and kisses me.
I gasp. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I flinch anyway. Muscle memory, I guess.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is soft and careful. But the arm pulling me in? That’s all dominance. It wraps around my waist and seals us together.
“Nothing,” I say, and I mean it. My unguarded smile should be proof enough. “I’m just not used to being kissed after giving…” I let the rest hang there, unfinished. Heknows.
His smile is just as sincere, but cocky as hell. “You’re used to messing around with boys,” he says, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “I’m going to show you what it feels like to be fucked by a man.”
Then Preston takes my mouth again. This time, it’s not a kiss; it’s a claim. His tongue pushes in, deep and unrelenting, leaving no part of me untouched. There’s nothing hesitant about this kiss. Nothing apologetic.
He’s showing me exactly how unbothered he is by the taste of himself on my lips. Fucking hell, he licked his cum off my breast last night. Why am I so surprised?
Truth be told, I’m getting turned on by it.
His lips leave mine, but the high doesn’t. I’m still floating when his voice cuts through my fog. “Come shower with me, baby. I want to feel you clean me up with those pretty hands. Every inch.”
I light up instantly. Yes. Yes. Let me map that body and burn the route in my memory.
We’re in the shower moments later, and I lather him with reckless abandon and unreasonable amounts of body wash, letting my hands slide over ridged muscle and bubbles. He gives me the same TLC, but before the suds are gone, Preston pins me to the cold tile and kisses me, bodies sliding together, raising a fresh round of steam. One hand catches my wrists and lifts them while the other hand rinses me with the handheld showerhead. When he’s done, one finger parts me and slips through the slick he made.
The fancy rainfall head can pour all it wants. Preston’s the reason I’m drenched.
My moans rise, bounce off glass and tile, then vanish when he goes still.
His mouth brushes my ear. “Not until I hear your list. All of it. Out loud.” I’ve never seen that cruel side of him before. It’s delicious.
He turns off the water, and I shove him away in mock outrage. Fine, not entirely mock, my thighs are already twisting in anticipation. I fling a towel at him. “You’re such a tease, Preston. Is this how you treat your students? Withhold orgasms until they recite their homework?”
He catches the towel one-handed, grinning like he just got tenure in sin. “Only when they’ve got extra credit tucked in their bag,” he growls, slapping my ass hard enough to make me jolt—and clench even harder. “Now, towel off, sit your pretty ass on the bed, and read to me. Every word, Mia. The longer you stall, the longer I’ll edge you.”
I’m wrapped and halfway to the bed before I decide if I want mercy or more.
I sit, leaning against the padded headboard. Legs crossed, nerves buzzing. Then he steps out of the bathroom, the towel slung low on his hips, causing me emotional harm. I should sue. That brutal V slicing down his torso is just rude, and by that, I mean, offensively hot. The longer I look, the more brain cells I lose. I’m seconds from drooling into the pillow.
“And that’s why you make me feel like a fucking king,” he says, catching my stare and holding it, full of that lethal certainty that makes me feel butterflies inside. Not in my stomach, but they flutter.
“Preston, every woman on this planet stares at you and drools. What are you talking about?”
“Never noticed.” He shrugs. “Or cared. Something must’ve changed when the nanny moved in.”
“Do you have it?” His voice stays steady, his tone giving nothing away—but when both hands land on his waist, the flicker of impatience is impossible to miss. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s as anxious as me.
“Right here.” I unfold the paper and… Well, fuck. I didn’t think this through, did I? I didn’t censor a single word I wrote on this list. I just… blurted my inner thoughts. Vented. Documented every horny neuron firing in my brain.
I was never supposed toperformthis. I’m in bed, but it feels like a stage. I feel the heat of the spotlight. The weight of his gaze. And I can’t back out. “Okay, some of these things we’ve already done.”
“Every word, Mia. I want to know it all.”
Oh God, he really can read minds. Or just see through paper? Because I did not hold back. This list is a manifesto.
I cough. Shuffle. Consider disappearing into the duvet. “Okay, okay. You might regret this, but okay. A deal is a deal. Honesty. Transparency. Right?”
Preston sits at the edge of the bed facing me, one arm draped across my hips, his hand resting on the curve of my ass. I think he likes that part of me.
“I’m not sure it’s in the right order of escalation, so don’t take that into considera—” His hand tightens. Not playful. Not light. A full-on grip that nearly pulls me down the mattress.
“Stop stalling,” he commands. “Is edging on that list? Is that what you’re aiming for?”
