“Matthew,” she wheezes.
I kiss.
Lick.
Suck.
“This is just the beginning, amore mio.” I feast on the flesh below her ear as she shudders in my arms. “Wait until I fuck you. Wait until my cock is buried so goddamn deep you can’t remember what life was like before I was inside you.”
Air leaves her lips on a rapid rush. Her pussy flutters around my fingers. She comes undone, grinding into my touch, one hand reaching behind my neck to tear at my hair.
She cries out in orgasm, riding me, fucking killing me in the best possible way as her back arches, her breasts breaching the surface to give me the perfect view of her ruby pebbled nipples.
She whimpers. Whispers my name.
Then finally, she collapses against my chest, the arm around my neck slithering back to her side.
I slide my digits from her core, but don’t stop touching her. I trail my fingertips around her pussy lips, straight up her center, and over her clit, the leisurely path lasting long minutes as she regains level breathing.
“I can’t believe that just happened.” She retracts her claws and slumps farther against me, sinking lower until the water is at her neck.
“Did you enjoy that little bit of fun?”
“Little bit of fun?” She glances over her shoulder, eyes wide. “I’ve never done anything like that before… In front of someone, I mean… It was…”
I’m about to grin at her purity when she turns back away, the faintest glimpse of shame flashing in her gaze before her face is no longer in view.
“Hey.” I grab her jaw in gentle fingers and guide her stricken expression to look at me again. “You didn’t enjoy yourself?”
“I did.” She swallows and licks her lips. “But I’m…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know who that woman was. All I know is it wasn’t me.”
Shit.
I release her jaw and inch back, extricating my softening dick from her tailbone.
I told her I’d push.
I warned her this would happen. I warned us both. I thought that had been enough to prepare her.
“Forgive me.” My apology is unwittingly growled, my tone laced in self-loathing.
“No.” She turns her entire body toward me, a wave of water escaping the lip of the tub to patter to the tiles. She’s trembling again, the swelling on her cheek now darker and beginning to bruise. “I didn’t want you to stop. I just…”
Just what? I want to beg her to continue but she’s skittish. One wrong push and she’ll run. I can see it in her eyes.
“You don’t need to explain. I’ll give you privacy to get out on your own.” I lean forward, poised to stand when her hands clamp down on mine.
“No. Don’t go.” She gives a bashful smile as she lowers her attention to my chest. “I’m sorry… I’m just shocked. That was the most thrilling thing I’ve ever done.”
Her expression undoes me. The modesty that stands meekly in the shadows of a woman who seemed fearless last night.
“Tell me which part was thrilling, Layla.” I settle back against the tub, relief pumping through my veins. “I want to know every little detail.”
“All of it.” Her teeth rake her lower lip, her attention still on my chest. “I’m making a fool of myself, aren’t I?” She glances up through dark lashes. “I feel like a virginal teenager.”
I reach out, gliding a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then gently brush my thumb over her damaged cheek. The bruising is deep, almost as deep as my anger toward the person who inflicted that pain.
“You’re far from foolish.” I guide my touch to her lower lip, grazing the soft flesh as I grin. “And don’t worry. I like my women confident on the streets, and easily scandalized between the sheets.”
Her laughter is instantaneous. Melodic.
Something about her finds a home inside me. Something that meshes without flaw.
I don’t know how she came to be so perfect. But she is. Her courage and determination out in the real world is remarkable. Then the contrasting meekness once she’s naked and vulnerable is enough to have me entirely hooked.
I envisaged her being a tigress in bed. Sure and poised and bold.
This modest kitten is far more detrimental to my composure.
“You’re the devil.” She holds my gaze, the bubbles licking over the tops of her breasts. “But do you know what?”
“What?”
Her face flushes as she whispers, “I’m starting to think I might really like you.”
I snicker and push to my feet. Water and bubbles rush down my abdomen and thighs as she quickly glances away from my exposed dick. “Well, welcome to the party, amore mio. You arrived late, but I guess it’s better than nothing.”
14
Layla
I keep my gaze averted as he dries himself, my hands clinging to the rim of the tub, my heart wildly fluttering.
He likes me.
He actually likes me.
It’s pathetic, but after a childhood when I was constantly watched by overbearing males who didn’t allow boys near, then being forced to spend years with a man who found it hard to love me, all while being the daughter to a monster who used me for his devious games, the confounding exhilaration of someone actually liking me—me, Layla Hart—is such an incredible relief.
“You okay?” Matthew pulls on his suit pants in my periphery, then yanks at the zipper.
“I’m better than okay.” I meet his gaze and the collision has his face falling.
“No, you’re not.” He frowns. “Something has upset you.”
I shake my head and smile. It’s a forced expression, but only due to the overwhelming whirlwind of sensation taking over my insides. “I’m perfect.”
I really am.
For the first time in more than a decade something other than my daughter has brought joy to my life, and it’s come in the form of a muscle-etched, stubble-ridden, gorgeous human whose eyes are currently scrutinizing mine.
“I’m going to give you space to clear your head.” He snatches his shirt from the floor and slides his arms into the light material. “Have a glass of champagne. Call out if you need me.”
“You don’t want to stay?”
His grin returns. “I don’t want to leave, but you need a moment to breathe. I’ll come check on you soon.”
He grabs his jacket and belt from the tile, and walks toward me, grabbing the ice bucket to place it closer. “Are you hungry? Is there anything else I can get for you?”
Just you.
Only you.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” The sound of my own fragility tightens my throat. I’m not going to be this woman—this needy, pathetic excuse for a full-blooded Torian. “Ignore me.” I cringe. “I’ll be out soon.”
He leans down and kisses the top of my head, his fingers trailing along my shoulder in the briefest tease of contact. “I’ll be waiting in the living room whenever you’re ready.”
He straightens and I feel the loss immediately. His steps toward the hall are torture. The isolation once he closes the door behind him is hell.