Mine. This body is mine. This woman is mine.
I might go crazy with needing to be inside her, but something holds me back. Some sense that it would break the spell, that maybe she would turn to ash in his hands if I dare to push for more or even look, and so I hold myself suspended in torment, savoring every second.
But I can’t hold out, not with her little pants against his neck or her not-so-gentle hands scrabbling at his back. I rock against her, incensed and senseless. She shuddered beneath me in a small, early climax and it’s too much. Too fucking sexy to bear.
I freeze that way, suspended on ice, my body rigid with denial.
“Jessica?” he asked hoarsely.
I need her to do more than take me, to accept this. I need her to want it as badly as I do. Because I won’t accept only one night with her. Not if I’m going to be inside her.
Her eyes opened wide, as if he had surprised her.
As if maybe she’d been in a dream all this time, while he touched her, while she orgasms, her pussy warm and wet through their clothes, his dick aching to be inside.
She pushed at him, and he let her up.
Her hair was tangled on one side and sticking up on the other. Her shirt clung to her body in the wrong places, wrinkled from sleep and his hands. She was glorious.
Her eyes blazed with anger and arousal. “What are you doing to me?”
I used to be good with women, smooth enough I could find a new one every night at the bar. And now here I am, trying to convince a woman who had just orgasmed against his cock to let him do it again. Not only once. Forever. Again and again.
“Do you want me to leave?”
Very smooth, Locke. I’m sure she’ll swoon with that kind of smooth talking.
The anger fades from her expression, leaving only sadness. “No. Of course not.”
Realization is a cold ball in my stomach, and I pull away from her. I sit on the edge of the cot, unwilling to leave her until I’m sure she’s okay. Not that I’m much help. “You’re saying that because you think you owe me. Because you think I’m asking for payment.”
Doubt flickers in her eyes. “It’s not… you.”
I can’t help the sardonic, humorless laugh that escapes me. “It’s not me, it’s you? I’m the one who came two seconds away from fucking you while you slept.”
She touches my arm, and it’s all I can do not to flinch away. “It’s just that’s how men have been for me. Always demanding something. And I’ve never wanted it.”
Then I can’t help it. Her words hit me like a blow. I recoil, physically, standing so that I can get some space from her and the terrible truth of this. Of course she’s terrified of men. She has the mark of the Luski mafia on her finger. I don’t know what they did to her, but I know they love violence. She would have seen her share of it, would have experienced it at the hands of terrible men.
Men like me, apparently. And I’ve never wanted it.
“Fuck,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry.”
“Until now,” she says, kneeling on the cot, looking more like a sex goddess than she has any right to look in a jail cell. “You made me want it. I thought you could feel it.”
Her cheeks flush as if she’s embarrassed to even talk about her orgasm. As if she’s embarrassed that she even had one. Oh fuck. “Was that your first?”
She looks away, ashamed. “You know I’ve had sex before. I have Ky.”
I take two long steps back to her, tilting her chin up so that I can see those beautiful blue eyes. There’s so much pain inside them, it almost hurts to look, but I can’t stop. “Your first climax. Was that your first time?”
“Yes,” she whispers, eyes wide, unblinking.
Jesus.
My high walls, my careful distance melt to nothing, leaving me exposed. Every desire and every hope. If she can twist me up this much in one night, I can’t imagine what prolonged exposure might do. I would self-combust.
Or have sex with her, which seemed possibly worse and so much better all at once.
“Stay,” I say roughly, my voice gravel against concrete.
Her blue eyes flash with worry. With longing. “What about Ky?”
Did he think he would want her without her child? “He can live in my house. It’s big and empty. And there’s a room in particular that would look great painted blue.”
She sucks in a breath. “You don’t know how much I want that. How much I want to have a regular life. How much I want you. But I can’t stop running.”
Because she experienced more pain and subjugation than any woman should have to. Which meant I should leave her alone. Not send her on her way with only that shitty car. He should give her money and safe passage so that she could start a new life—free from the hard cocks and hungry eyes of men who would want her, men like me.
I should really let her go.
“I’ll keep you safe here,” I say instead.
She opens her mouth to tell me about the dangers. And I would hear them. Then I would fucking vanquish every last one of them. But first I need to do something. I’ve needed to do it since I first saw her sleepy blue eyes and beautiful face staring up from her car window.
I kiss her, a light brush, my lips against hers.
Like a question, asking her to stay with the words I haven’t yet spoken aloud. She’s wound up so tight, full of worry and fear, and I want to make her feel safe, to caress her body until she turns into a puddle of need and incoherent begging.
She makes me crazy, and once upon a time he had sought that out, wanting to feel wild and on edge. Not for a long time, though. These past years had been about isolation. About driving down dark country roads alone. And all along, he’d been looking for her. Without even knowing it, looking for her.
Her lips are swollen, her skin flushed. She’s so incredibly sensual that it makes my body ache. At least it would if I could look away from her eyes. They blaze as bright and as blue as a new day, full of hope. She’s radiant like this.
“Finn,” she murmurs.
“Jessica,” I say, leaning in for another kiss. “Nice to meet you.”
* * *
THANK YOU for reading Bedtime Story, the sexy modern retelling of Sleeping Beauty. I hope you loved Finn and Jessica as well as sweet little Ky! Turn the page for the next dangerous bedtime story…
MAFIA CINDERELLA
Skye Warren
One dress. One dance. Lucia has one chance to change her life—and the lives of her family. But Sebastian Conti is no prince charming. He’s a dangerous man. When the clock strikes midnight, he’ll determine her fate.
CHAPTER ONE
Once upon a time…
The crunch of tires on gravel yanks me from sleep.
My heart pounds like I woke up in the middle of a bad dream.
I scramble off the mat, the concrete freezing on my bare feet. An upturned crate gives me the boost I need to see through the one-foot-high window at ground level. Through the grime on the glass and the weeds outside, I can make out the silhouette of a car. A long black car.
A limousine.
My breath comes faster. How long has it been since I’ve seen a limo? I don’t remember ever seeing one, not specifically, but I must have since I know what it is. And my father was a wealthy man. A powerful man. I may have even ridden in a limo as a child.