“All the time.” I shrug.
“Are you serious?” he stammers. “You actually give strangers access to your food?”
“They’re delivery drivers. Why wouldn’t I?”
“They see a meal for one. Put some Rohypnol into your food, wait for half an hour until they know you’ve eaten it and are unconscious, and then come back, break in, and take advantage of your body.” He dusts his hands in front of him. “Boom, easiest crime in history.”
My face falls. “What?” God, I’ve never thought of that.
“True story,” he says as he walks around my apartment. “If I were a rapist, that’s what I would do.”
“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified by your evil thought process.”
He turns back to me, and his face softens. “Impressed—let’s go with impressed.”
I giggle as he takes me into his arms. “Okay,” I murmur. “Impressed it is. Why have you been so cranky with me this week?” I ask softly as I run my fingers through his dark hair.
“Because you’re fighting with me,” he whispers. “I don’t like it.” His lips take mine, and his tongue swipes softly through my lips.
“I’m not fighting now.”
“And look how fucking beautiful you are,” he says tenderly as he cups my face in his hands.
Our kiss deepens, and I want him naked. In my bed and naked. I slide his shirt off over his head and unzip his pants; his lips stay locked on mine as if he’s unable to drag them away.
His chest is broad with a scattering of dark hair, and his stomach is rippled . . . but it’s his dick that’s a standout.
The man’s hung like a horse. I don’t know if this thing even goes down. I most definitely have never seen it soft.
“You need to get on my bed on your back now,” I whisper as my eyes drop down his delicious naked body.
He smiles broadly. “That’s the best thing you’ve ever said to me.” He drags me through the apartment by my hand and into my bedroom; in one quick movement, he’s unzipped my dress, and then he slowly slides it down.
He holds my hand as I step out of it, and his eyes drop hungrily down my body. “You are so fucking beautiful, Emily.”
My heart swells at the way he is looking at me.
He lays me down and spreads my legs and slowly strokes himself as he stares down. I writhe as I wait for his touch. His lips take my nipple into his mouth, and my back arches off the bed. His fingers slide through the lips of my sex. He hisses in approval as he feels how wet I am. My breath quivers on the inhale. He’s just so . . .
Jameson Miles knows how to touch a woman.
Everything is magnified, to the point where even his blazing stare could make me orgasm.
His lips make a delicious trail down my body, and he kisses my inner thighs with his open mouth. My hands go to the back of his head. His hands hold my legs wide open, and his thick, strong tongue swipes through me.
My back arches in pleasure as my head tips back to the ceiling. “Oh God.”
He licks me, slowly at first, and then as if he’s unable to control himself, he begins to really eat me. His stubble burns my sex as my body begins to ride his face. “Oh . . . so good,” I whimper.
He lifts my legs to sit over his shoulders, and the change in position has my body trembling with need.
“Oh God,” I whimper as my hands fist in his hair.
“Come. I want to taste you,” he moans into me.
I convulse and shudder deep inside my body as I cling to him. He laps me up like I’m his last supper. He pulls back and unwraps a condom and passes it to me; I slide it on him with a soft kiss to his cock.
With his eyes locked on mine, he lifts my legs around his waist and in one strong movement slides deep into my sex.
We stare at each other as the air is knocked from our lungs.
“So fucking good,” he whispers as our eyes search each other.
He pulls out and then slowly slides back in. My mouth hangs slack at the feeling of his possession.
Nobody fucks me like Jameson Miles . . . nobody.
I can try to deny this emotional attachment all I want, but the physical . . . I just can’t.
He circles deep inside and then slams back in. I cry out as the air is knocked from my lungs. Then he’s riding me—deep, punishing hits—and my bed is hitting the wall so hard it may knock it down.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moans into my neck.
He lifts one of my legs, and I can’t hold it any longer. My body contracts around his, and he hisses as he comes with me.
We cling to each other as we pant, and I smile up against his cheek as euphoria runs through my blood.
Jameson Miles is my new drug.
And I am his crack whore.
I wake to the gentle breathing beside me, and I roll over and smile. Jameson is flat on his back and asleep. We had an incredible night.
The tender, witty guy was back . . . with no sight of the asshole CEO.
I lean up onto my elbow as I watch him. His dark hair hangs over his forehead, his big red lips are slightly open, and his eyelashes flutter as he sleeps. He has one arm behind his head, and the other is splayed on his stomach.
He’s beautiful—everything about him physically is beautiful. Last night I got a little peek that maybe he’s as beautiful on the inside as well. Stop it.
You’re getting clingy and attached.
Jameson is not the kind of man you get attached to.
He inhales deeply as he wakes, and slowly his eyes open and focus on me. “Hey, beautiful,” he whispers in a husky voice as he cups my face in his hand.
I smile and lean over and kiss him. “Good morning, Jameson.”
“Call me Jay.”
I frown in question.
“My friends call me Jay.”
“So we’re friends?”
He pulls me over his body onto his chest. “No, you’re my fuck bunny.”
I smile as I kiss his chest beneath me.
“What’s planned for today?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
He frowns as if trying to focus his eyes, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll get my driver to pick us up, and I’ll make us some breakfast at my place.”
I lean up onto my elbow and look down at him. “What’s wrong with here? I’ve got breakfast things you can cook.”
“Nothing. I just feel more comfortable at my place. We will hang there today.”
“I’m more comfortable here, Jameson,” I reply, slightly annoyed.
“What?” He winces. “How could you be?”
I sit up, affronted. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.
He rolls his eyes. “Here we go a-fucking-gain.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You asked that question twice,” he replies dryly. “Do you have to argue about every fucking thing that we do?”
“I’m not arguing. I’m just saying I want to stay here today. Your apartment may be fancy, but it doesn’t impress me.”
He stares at me for a moment.
“And for the record, I don’t argue about everything. I was annoyed that your masseuse is on personal terms to message you the way she did.”
He rolls his eyes and puts the back of his forearm over them. “Here we go.”