Not once did I feel gnawingly hungry for sex like I do now.
Not once in more than nine years of marriage.
“How are you doing in there?” Matthew asks from behind the closed door.
“I’m good.” My chest fills with butterflies as I picture him in the darkened hall. “Do you want to come in?”
“You didn’t lock the door?”
I bite my lower lip. No, I didn’t. I thought about it, though. “Would the flimsy lock have stopped you from breaking in if you wanted to?”
If Matthew’s intent was to hurt me, he could’ve done it many times already. He could’ve whisked me out of the city while I was disorientated from the incident in the alley. He could’ve kidnapped me that night at the food truck. He could’ve forced me to do anything from his sheer masculine power alone.
The knob turns, the door gradually inching open to expose the man I’ve been daydreaming about for these unending minutes. No, for the last three weeks.
He leans against the doorframe, his gaze taking me in with hunger. “I made you another drink.” Another glass of scotch rests against his hip as those dark eyes devour me.
“Thank you.” I tilt my head to the side when he remains in place. “Do I have to wait until I get out for you to give it to me?”
“That’s probably for the best.” His attention lowers to the bubbles. “It’s not a good idea for me to get any closer.”
I press my lips tight, holding in a smile.
God, I love the predatory lust in his gaze.
“Where’s Bishop?” I raise my arm from beneath the water, slicing open a path of bubbles to guide a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
“Out.”
“Out?” I hold in my delight at his gruff response.
“He’s busy rescheduling my flights. Again.”
My heart pangs at the reminder of our limited time. “When do you leave?”
“Tonight.”
I play with the bubbles, raking my fingers through them, spreading them one way, then back the other, attempting to tease him with the possibility of exposing what the thick cloud hides.
“That doesn’t give us a lot of time.” I keep swirling, decimating the foam further and further with each swipe.
“No,” he murmurs. “It doesn’t.”
When he falls quiet, refusing to continue the conversation, my thoughts become more daring, my curiosity growing wings.
I raise my leg onto the side of the tub and shiver when his nostrils flare.
“Are you deliberately torturing me?” he growls.
My heart kicks. Wild and unrhythmic. “Torture you?”
He raises the scotch, downing the contents in one fell swoop before returning the glass to his side. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
There’s a warning in his voice. A delicious subtle threat.
My throat tightens. My chest, too. Everything is so painfully, invigoratingly restricted that I have to fight hard to maintain level breathing.
I raise my other leg, crossing both at the ankles against the rim of the tub. I shouldn’t be doing this. Warning bells ring in the farthest recesses of my mind. If only they were loud enough to put a stop to the craziness. “Join me.”
His jaw ticks. That’s his only response. No movement. No words.
“Matthew?”
His features tighten, almost setting in a glower as he grates, “Be sure about this, Layla.”
“I think I am,” I lie. I’m not even partially certain. I’m running on instinct alone. No, not instinct—infatuation.
“Then I’m staying where I am.” He crosses his arms over his chest, the glass moving to rest in the crook of his arm.
“Why is this—”
“I’m on the precipice here. I can only pretend to be a stand-up guy for so long, then I’m going to start pushing my own agenda. So don’t play with me, amore mio.”
My cheeks blaze as I retract my legs from the rim of the tub to sit up straight. “I wasn’t…” I shake my head. “I’m not…” I don’t know what to say.
“What?” he asks. “You’re not what?”
“I wasn’t playing. I like being held by you. I just never assumed the offer had to come with a predetermined conclusion.”
“It does and it doesn’t.” He raises his chin as if stricken. “If at any time I did something you didn’t appreciate, you’d only have to say the word and I’d stop. But that’s where your problem is going to be. I’ll make sure you appreciate everything I do. I’ll make you want me, Layla. I’ll push you further than you anticipate and I won’t regret it.”
I shiver. Head to toe. Every inch of skin sizzles with goose bumps.
I don’t doubt him. He’s already pushed my boundaries. I’ve accepted numerous open drinks. I climbed into the car of a stranger. I’ve left myself vulnerable to him.
These are all cardinal sins set out by my family since birth. Yet, I don’t regret breaking them.
I want more.
“Join me,” I whisper.
He leans over in a swoop, placing his glass on the tile before he deftly shucks his suit jacket to the floor. Then, with one button after another, he exposes me to a torso of carved muscles, his hard work ethic and determination etched into the peaks and curves of his chest.
“Something wrong?” He raises a brow as he drops his shirt to the floor.
“My imagination didn’t do you justice.”
He smirks, his strong hands latching onto his belt. He holds my gaze as he pulls the leather from the clasp, but I can’t keep the connection—not when my cheeks flame hot.
I tilt my face away, stupidly bashful, the heat in my cheeks seeping down my neck.
My heart thunders at the continued clink of the belt buckle. In my periphery, I see him discard his suit pants to pile them on top of his shirt.
He snickers, the faint sound making me shiver. “What’s wrong, Lay?”
I pull my legs to my chest and focus on the bubbles as he continues to undress, removing his socks, then his underwear.
“Don’t tell me you’re shy.” He approaches, stopping directly over my shoulder, almost out of sight. “Another bashful flutter of those lashes and I’m done for.”
I focus on levelling my breathing as I hug my thighs. “Not shy. Just respectful. It’s rude to stare.”
There’s another muted snicker. “Let me make this clear—the things I’ve pictured us doing are far from respectful. Now scoot forward. Let me sit behind you.”
I do as instructed, shuffling farther along the tub.
Every one of my nerves tingles as he climbs in, raising the water level along with the horizon of bubbles. The moment his legs slide around me, I tense, my nipples beading painfully. It’s such a strange sensation, this hyper anticipation coated in brutal nervousness.
“Relax.” His hands find my forearms under the water. “Lean back against me.”
I don’t know how. I’m frozen. All the overflowing confidence I had moments earlier has vanished, the traitorous bitch leaving me to fend for myself.
“It’s okay.” His voice is soft as he guides me to recline against him, his hands adding tender pressure on my shoulders. Then he falls quiet, not saying a word as I settle into him. There’s only the gentle ebb and flow of his breathing and the thrilling hardness of his dick against my back.