Silence. My thumb pauses, slipping beneath the elastic to seek warm skin. Behind the flap of my towel, my cock jerks to life, despite having been drained less than ten minutes ago.
“No.” Lenny draws in a shaky breath. “I don’t think about that.”
“Right.” I hum, moving forward so my pelvis fits against her backside, the shift causing me to flatten my hand and press lightly against her hip. “What do you think about, then?”
“I-I don’t,” she stammers, her breathing growing shallow. My thumb flicks against her skin, my hand sliding up until I can feel the weight from the underside of her breast pushing back. The swell rests against my forefinger, and my thumb twitches, grazing the edge of her nipple.
She gasps, and I want to crush her to me. Cover her mouth with mine so every sound she makes after this belongs to me, as well.
But I don’t.
I resist, despite the ache in my balls and the lust twisting my gut.
“You’re lying.”
Scraping my teeth over the shell of her ear, I let my fingers curl into her flesh, squeezing her tit and reveling in how it’s the perfect size for my palm. Like she was bloody made for me.
Her back begins to bow, her hips pushing into me as if searching for friction, but then she catches herself. Clears her throat and tries to relax. Closes her eyes.
“I wouldn’t need to bribe you.”
“No?”
“No,” I agree. “You’re as desperate for my cock as it is for you, you just don’t want to be. I bet if I slid my hand into your shorts right now, I’d find all the evidence I need.”
Teasing the peak of her nipple until it’s puckered and angry, I let my tongue trace the outline of her ear. Wordless, she cranes her neck—just barely, but I seize the opportunity and continue my trek down the side of her throat, lapping at her pulse.
“Oh, my god.” The words are a hiss, and she reaches up, covering my hand with hers over her top. Guiding me, she kneads and pinches, though her eyes stay shut.
“Admit it, love.” My lips latch on to her neck, sucking hard before releasing with a wet pop. “Admit you think about me.”
“I-I… fuck, I do.”
“What do you think about?” Laving my tongue over the red splotch, I move up, repeating the action just below her ear.
She moans. “About you. Us. What it would be like…”
My free hand glides up, hooking in the band of her shorts and shoving them aside.
When I do, her entire body locks up, and immediately I know I’ve taken it too far.
Lenny’s eyes spring open, and she drops my hand like it’s a scalding dish fresh out of the oven. Wrenching away, she wriggles from my grasp and darts to the bed, glaring at me with renewed rage.
“See what I mean?” she huffs, pointing at me.
I smirk. “That wasn’t payment, love. That was me proving a point.”
She rolls her eyes. “What point was that?”
Gripping my towel tight, I don’t even bother trying to hide the outline of my cock behind the cloth. Glancing down, she notices, and the bob of her throat is almost enough to make me come again.
“I’ve seen how you react when a stranger makes sexual advances toward you,” I tell her, backing up so I’m straddling the doorway. “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?”
Reaching for the doorknob, I toss her a wink before I turn to go and get dressed.
“We aren’t strangers.”
18
Spinning in the mirror one last time, I smooth my hands down my rose-pink dress, already dreading what Daddy will have to say about it. In truth, compared to the corsets and miniskirts I wear, the off-shoulder crepe dress is fairly modest, but I can feel in my gut that Daddy will pick a fight regardless.
Every bone in that man’s body screams vindictive, and he wonders where I get it from.
Heading downstairs, I pause at the easel in front of the office, plucking a clean brush from my collection, something thin that tucks easily.
Fitting it in my cleavage, I take a deep breath and force myself to relax. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we don’t have to interact with my parents again.
Jonas is waiting by the Range Rover when I exit the house, and I almost swallow my tongue when I see him.
The night we met, he was wearing a suit, but I didn’t really get a good look at him then on account of the murder clouding my judgment.
Now, he’s in an all-black slim-fitting suit with a deep red tie, his dark curls tamed with some sort of product. Seeing him dressed has me thinking back to when he stood half naked in the bedroom and had his hands all over me.
For the first time in months, I didn’t mind someone touching me. Didn’t feel like my universe was collapsing in on itself, even with the depravity he spoke in my ear.
In fact, I wanted him to do more. Take it further.
Which is how I knew I was in trouble.
As I approach, he drags those violet-blue eyes over me slowly, starting at my Givenchy heels and stopping at the lacy white choker around my neck.
Lifting a brow, Jonas lets out a low whistle, and I try not to make it obvious that I’m thinking about what happened upstairs.
I can still feel his short beard against my cheek.
He opens the passenger door for me and I climb inside, tension threading through every one of my muscles. They pull tight, and it feels like they’re being shredded one by one like confetti.
Sliding behind the wheel, Jonas starts the vehicle and pulls away from the house. I stare out the side-view mirror, my cheek resting on my knuckles.
Movement in the foreground catches my attention, and I swear I see a shadow on the beach again. But when I sit up and turn, glancing out the back window, there’s nothing there.
The lack of large vegetation on this part of the island means there really isn’t anywhere for someone to hide, so maybe I am seeing things. Stress-induced figments of my imagination.
Settling back in my seat, I feel Jonas’s eyes on me. They’re hot where they roam over my skin, and I meet his gaze to try and force him away.
Mistake.
Instead, he captures and refuses to let go, even as he continues driving down the one-lane road. His fingers tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles bleaching, and I press my thighs together as I remember the feel of his calloused palm cupping my breast and massaging my nipple.
Moisture pools between my legs, and I cough into my fist to cover the flush crawling up my chest.
“You should probably look where you’re going.”
A muscle in his jaw jumps, but he turns back around. Drapes a wrist over the wheel, like we’re on a leisurely drive and not en route to disaster.
“Any suggestions for dealing with your family?”
“I’d say be yourself, but they kind of hate you.”
“Rightfully so, I suppose.” The leather bracelet on his wrist peeks out beneath a big, silver Rolex, and I see the little W charm dangling from it. I don’t think he ever takes it off.
We travel in silence for a little longer, and I lock my fingers together in my lap, trying to think of something to say. A way to bridge the awkward gap between us, so my family buys the story of our engagement.
Because if they don’t, Daddy will certainly try and rip me away.