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“Get on the bed,” I say again.

She raises a brow. “We both came. We’re even.”

Good if she thinks that. Maybe she’ll believe she owes me something.

I bring my hands to her hips and pull her body against mine.

She gasps as I pull her into a soft, slow kiss.

The kiss of an old lover.

Of a new lover, determined to devour her.

I bring my lips to her ear. “Jamie, I’m going to say this one more time. And I’m going to take any answer besides compliances as a no.” I slide my hand around her thigh. “Do you want to argue with me? Or do you want to come on my face?”

Chapter

Ten

JAIME

Do you want to argue with me, or do you want to come on my face?

The man does know how to state it plainly.

My eyes fix on his.

I try to make him sweat it. To stand there, naked and proud and totally in control.

But I want him too badly.

He’s too patient. The other contexts melt away. Strategy, future goals, the reality of his imminent death⁠—

None of it matters.

Not compared to how badly I want his lips on my skin.

I go straight to the bedroom.

He makes me wait for a minute.

Then two.

Three.

Five.

Ten.

Dammit. He’s too patient. It’s torture. Perfect, sweet, awful torture.

Every second winds me tighter.

When I see him in the doorframe in his wool suit, I’m ready to pounce.

Somehow, I hold my position as he crosses the room to me. As he curls one hand around my neck and the other around my hip.

His fingers dig into my flesh.