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I couldn't stop smiling, and the heat that had been stirring in me all day slowly unfurled as his mouth pressed in my hair, down my side, to my neck.
"How do you feel about pierced nipples?"
My mind stuttered. “Wha-what?"
"I'm obsessed with your tits. I see them when I close my eyes," he murmured against the shell of my ear. "I want to pierce them. Attach a chain to the piercings so I can tug on them just to see your pupils blown out. Will you let me?"
“Seriously?” I chuckled against his chest, silently admitting to myself that it would probably be hot. And he wanted to do that to me?
"No?" His fingers were sliding up my thighs, bringing my dress with them. "How about your clit then?" He groaned, “God, that would be sexy.”
"No!" I was laughing now but growing wet in my panties as his fingers slid even higher.
“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice a deep growl, “are you as obsessed with me as I am with you? You must know by now.”
“You’re not,” I protested, “You’re lying.’
“I never lie, Summer. Not to you. Surely you can tell?”
“I had no idea,” I admitted in surprise.
He pulled back, his expression serious. “I have boundaries for a reason, Summer. They keep me sane. Within the lines. In control. Because if I want something, I become relentless. It turns into an insatiable hunger that drives away all reason. So I follow strict rules to keep myself in check. I don’t bend them for anything.” His eyes traced over my face, his gaze burning with a fierce look of possession. “But now…I’m losing control. Letting go of my restraint. Ditching the rules. And my new fixation,” his throat bobbed, “is you. With each step towards this cliff, I surrender that control.”
“But,” I could only stare in shock—the intensity pulsing between us. “You’ve avoided me every moment you could these past few weeks."
“That’s because I’m too old for you.” Groaning, he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his fingers sliding to palm my ass, squeezing it harshly. “I shouldn't be touching you like this. Wanting you like this."
"It's okay," I tried to reassure him, distracted by his hands on me, making me buzz with heat.
"It's not okay. God what would your father think?"
“My father's not here.” I sassed, annoyed that my father was still dictating my life, “Besides, when did we backtrack to the eighteen-hundreds? Even if he were here, what say would he have in my love life?"
“You don’t mean that," he argued. "You loved your father."
“You haven’t been around for a while,” I argued.
"I know much more than you think,” he said simply, and I realized that his fingers had stopped stroking my skin. He lowered my dress, taking a step away to put some distance between us.
Scowling, I gripped his chin, forcing his eyes on me. “Let me tell you something," I said, trying to keep the anger from my voice, "I have a mind of my own. It's not like you're forcing me to be with you."
"No, just the Magnolia."
“It's not just them."
“If it wasn't for them, you never would’ve come to me. They destroyed your home. Threatened Callie.” At the lawyer’s, we’d discovered the truth that yes, they were the ones who petitioned custody for Callie.
Once my contract was signed, they didn’t bother to hide it. Though it still took some convincing to get the lawyer to admit it—he was clearly afraid of them.
"Rook, you're not forcing?—“
"Rook?” A woman’s voice interrupted us. “Is dat you?"
Turning my head, there was an elderly black lady peering from the doorway of the shop.
“Mama Bondo,” Rook answered, jumping away from me.
"Well, if it isn't you.” The elderly, grey-haired lady reached out, and Rook immediately rushed to her, grasping her hand. “I thought you might be stoppin' by."
