“Closer to afternoon.” He pushes away from the door and strides toward the bed, stopping on my side to bend down and drop a kiss on my surprised mouth. “Good morning, beautiful.”
I blink up at him, clutching the snowy white duvet to my chest, speechless.
“Hungry?” He glances toward the table. “Room service came just a few minutes ago.”
Oh God, did they see me sprawled out naked in bed? I woke with the covers mostly over me, one leg falling out. How embarrassing.
Whit must sense my embarrassment because the look on his face softens. “I pushed the table and stand closer to the bed. They left it right inside the room. Come on.” He holds his hand out for me. “Let’s eat.”
“Um, I’m naked.” I tuck the duvet closer to me, oddly uncomfortable. I’m not used to kind Whit. It’s…disconcerting.
“I’ll bring your food to you then.” He goes to the table and whisks the silver domes off each plate, revealing a sumptuous meal of fluffy scrambled eggs and crisp strips of bacon, accompanied by small bowls of a colorful variety of fruit.
My stomach growls and I lift my gaze to his. “Bacon?”
“They serve American breakfast at this hotel,” he explains. “Want a croissant?”
“Please.”
Watching him complete domestic tasks, taking care of me, is mind blowing.
“Coffee?” he asks, his gaze locked with mine.
“With cream, yes, please.”
“Champagne?”
Tempting, but I don’t need any alcohol right now. “In a little bit.”
He brings me the plate, laden with so much food I know I can’t eat it all, and hands it to me, along with the cloth napkin and silverware. He sets a very full cup of coffee on the nightstand and then does the same thing for himself, settling on the bed beside me, his back propped up by pillows.
We eat in companionable silence, the tension between us growing thicker and thicker as we get closer to finishing. I can’t stop nibbling on the croissant, tearing it into tiny shreds, and I’ve already ate all of my fruit, most of my eggs and of course, the bacon is long gone.
“You’re nervous,” he says after far too many minutes of silence. “I can sense it.”
I set the plate on the table next to me, wipe my hands and mouth on the cloth napkin and then turn to look at him. “Of course, I’m nervous. I still don’t understand what’s going on. Or why you’re here. Why exactly you were in cahoots with Monty and put together last night’s dinner. I don’t get it, Whit.”
“I knew you’d never agree to see me if I just—asked. I had to use some element of surprise to get you into the same room as me again,” he explains.
“And now here I am, like an idiot, naked in your bed. Your perfect little whore.” I mutter that last sentence under my breath, shame washing over me, making me regret I just ate so much.
“Don’t call yourself that.” His voice is firm.
“Why not? It’s true. It’s what you’ve always called me, ever since we first met. That’s what you wanted from me from the start. You wanted my body. You wanted to destroy my self-esteem and completely control me. You wanted me at your every whim, to play with and fuck and torture. Haven’t you had enough?”
He drops his plate on the nightstand with a loud clatter, reaching for me, but I scoot away from him, needing the distance. “It’s not like that. You make what we’ve shared sound so…sordid.”
“That’s because it is sordid.” The duvet falls and I cross my arms, covering my breasts, not wanting him to look at them.
But of course, he’s looking at them. Staring at them. Staring at me, as if he can’t get enough of me.
“You want the truth? I’m obsessed with you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, his gaze…pleading. “At first, I hated you, and what you represented. Then I was drawn to you, despite it all. Eventually, I had to have you, and once I did, I couldn’t get enough.”
I stare at him, my entire body trembling with some unknown emotion. God, when he’s so close, I become completely confused. He’s too much.
“Do you know how strong you are? How fucking beautiful you are? You walked around campus like you owned the fucking place, despite me trying to destroy your reputation every chance I could get. I admired your strength. I respected it too,” he admits.
“Respected me? Please. You got the biggest thrill out of degrading me every chance you got,” I retort, dropping my arms. Fuck it. Let him see. He had his hands and mouth and cock all over my body last night. What does it matter anymore?
He continues on as if I didn’t say anything. “And then you show up at my birthday dinner, sitting with my family as if you belonged there, while I show up with that joke of a girl who I was supposed to marry. I fucked you in the bathroom only because I was so fucking desperate to get inside you. I couldn’t control myself.”
“You were trying to humiliate me,” I interrupt.
“Absolutely not.”
“You touched Leticia with my—juices on your hand,” I remind him, closing my eyes at the humiliating memory of that moment.
He comes closer to me, and I can feel his body heat. Smell his delicious, expensive cologne. “You marked me. Reminding me that I was yours. Didn’t you see that? You fucking imprinted on me the entire week at my family’s house. I couldn’t get enough of you. I went to my father and begged him to let me out of the arrangement with Leticia.”
I crack open my eyes to find his face directly in mine. “Why? So you could be with me?”
He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t look away either. He won’t say it, but I see the answer in his eyes.
Yes.
“We would never work,” I whisper.
He touches my face. Grasps my chin lightly with his fingers, tilting my head back. “We will always work, Summer. Look at me.” I meet his gaze, noting the intensity in his light blue eyes. “We were made for each other.”
His mouth settles on mine before I can say anything, and I open for him. Of course, I do. It’s like a bad habit I can’t kick no matter how hard I try. The moment his tongue curls around mine I whimper, reaching for him, my hands finding the bare skin of his chest. I stroke him, grasp at him, overcome. Needy.
A groan sounds low in his throat and his hands are everywhere, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough when it comes to him. And me. I fall back onto the bed and he undoes the front of his trousers, shucking them and his boxer briefs down, exposing his erect cock. I climb on top of him, straddling him, reaching for the base so I can guide him inside of me.
The moment I slide down the length of him, we’re both moaning in agony. His pants are still around his ankles, his shirt still on and I start to fuck him in earnest, chasing after the bliss I know will wash over me in mere minutes.
He wraps his hands around my waist, controlling the pace. He’s so thick, filling me completely every time I slide down. I ride him, my pussy clenching with need, tightening around him and he nuzzles my chest. Draws a nipple into his mouth and sucks. Bites. Sucks some more.
I hold him to me, my knees at his hips, bouncing on top of him, my face buried in his soft, fragrant hair. The orgasm lingers just on the peripheral, so close I can taste it and I take him deep. As deep as he can get.