The promise in his voice lingers long after his lips leave my skin.
My eyes go wide as it hits me—I actually just asked him to fuck me, even with how reckless I’ve been since my dad died.
I chew my lip, and he immediately smooths it over with his thumb. “What’s wrong?”
“I—I’m so sorry,” I stammer, voice catching. “I asked you to fuck me, and I haven't even been tested for… You know, STDs. Oh my god, I’m such an idiot, and you've obviously been with my… Rose.”
No. Just no. I cannot think about that.
“Okay. Calm down before you stop breathing or your head explodes. It's okay.”
“It's not okay! I've been such a slut.”
“Hey,” he snaps lightly, gripping my hands, stopping me from picking at the skin again. “You are not a slut. You did what helped you get through a difficult time. Stop punishing yourself.”
I shudder at his words, the tension easing just a little. He continues. “I haven't been with Rose in a year, and even though the thought of any other man touching you kills me, it happened. The only one touching you from now on… is me. And if you're worried, all you need to do is get tested.”
“Okay… okay, you're right. But…” I release a shuddering breath. “You haven't been with her?”
His mouth twists, a sour edge creeping in. “Bit of a turn-off when you see her whoring herself out to anyone with a cock.”
That woman must be blind and stupid to look at him and want anyone else.
Lucky for me, though. I get the benefits of her stupidity.
“Are we good now?” he searches my face. “Is everything clear?”
I let out a shaky laugh, the last of the panic bleeding out of me. “Yes, sir.”
The reaction is instant and unexpected.
His eyes flare, pupils blown wide; his hand comes up, fingers closing around my throat. Not tight. Not rough. Just enough to make me embarrassingly wet.
“Say that again.”
My lips part. “Yes, sir.”
He kisses me like it's inevitable. His mouth is hot and demanding, teeth catching my lower lip, and suddenly I’m dizzy.
It feels so right to be claimed by him.
“Remember that I like you a whole lot.” he pulls back to grab the hoodie from his chair and lays it on the floor, his heated look never leaving me.
“Kneel for me, princess.”
I don't hesitate for a second
I slip off his desk and kneel before looking up at him. “I still hate the nickname.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you insist on calling me it?”
He lifts his cap to run his fingers through his dark hair before putting it back into place. “Because it gets a rise out of you, and you look insanely cute when you're annoyed.”
I swat at him, trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck, and then—without warning—his hand grips a fistful of my hair and tugs it back just enough to send a delicious sting through my scalp.
“You look so damn good on your knees.”
