She props herself up on her elbows, my shirt slipping dangerously low on her frame. Reaching to the side of the sunbed, she grabs her bikini top from the ground and dangles it between two fingers without breaking eye contact. Then she flicks it toward me. Its weight is nothing, but the contact is nuclear.
I raise a brow.
Fuck.
This is torture.
She knows exactly what she’s doing now. That smug little look on her face proves it.
I glance down at the bikini top but make no move to hand it back. Instead, I let the silence stretch until she shifts beneath it.
“So?”
“So?” I echo.
“We’re seriously pretending that night didn’t happen?”
There it is. I fight the smile. “Pretending what didn’t happen?” I keep my voice flat.
“You know what.” Her eyes narrow.
“You brought it up. Finish the sentence.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes, but her cheeks go bright pink. I wait, letting the silence deepen.
She wets her lips and looks away. “You’re such an ass.”
“And you’re avoiding the question.”
I pocket my hands. “What happened that night?”
“What happened,” she snaps, meeting my eyes, “is that you lost control.”
My mouth curves. “That’s what you think that was?”
“Yes.” She holds her ground.
“That wasn’t even me slipping.” I crouch down. “If I lost control, you couldn’t handle it,” I say.
“You don’t know what I can handle.”
I drag my gaze down her body once—blatant, hungry, vicious.
“You keep asking for things you’re not ready for.”
She tilts her head. “Try me.”
My restraint hangs by a thread. One small, snapping thread.
And she’s pulling it on purpose.
Chapter eleven
~JESSICA~
Dominic’s weight crushes me into the mattress, one hand pinning both my wrists above my head. His breath is hot against my cheek, his mouth dragging down the column of my throat.
“Look at you,” he drawls, the exact kind of tone that melts my insides.
