He breathes in deep, making his nostrils flare, and that’s when it hits me.
“Decided if I wantyouto be my nobody fuck while I’m staying here?”
He stares at me, but I’m getting used to the intensity in his eyes now, and it doesn’t unnerve me as much as it did to begin with.
I lean a little closer, letting my gaze wander over his face. He really is a beautiful specimen of a man. High cheekbones. A jaw that could cut glass. Hypnotizing eyes that are an icy blue, as cold as his personality. Dark hair that’s a little too long and unkempt, but he makes it work, looking rough and rugged, and like a man who knows how to fuck you until you can’t take any more.
“I don’t know,” I muse, tilting my head, toying with him, my two orgasms flooding my veins with endorphins and confidence.
What he’s proposing is interesting, especially after what he just made my body do. My inner thighs are soaking from my release. I was prepared to write last night off, thinking it was not knowing it was him that made it so hot. I didn’t expect it would be like that again if I knew it was him. A man I can’t stand.
Letting him go down on me was a test.
One I expected him to fail.
But instead, he sailed through it in a luxury frigging yacht.
I goddamn squirted.
He’s proven I don’t have to like him for this to work. In fact, it makes it better. I really didn’t care if I’d yanked his hair out when I was using my grip on it to push his face between my thighs.
God, this man has a mouth on him.
I tilt my face up toward him.
“I can handle it. But maybe you’ll be the one who decides you can’t forget about me when I leave? Ever considered that?”
“Jude, I’ll put you on that damn plane back to New York myself if I have to, and I’ll have forgotten about you before they even close the door.”
He says it so softly. So easily.
The drop in my stomach at the emptiness in his voice is stupid. This is exactly what I want and need. I don’t want him thinking about me when I leave. Just like I know I won’t be thinking about him either. In fact, this is refreshing, having a guy be brutally honest with me.
If Callum had been then I wouldn’t have been wearing a thirty-thousand-dollar wedding dress and feeling like a complete and utter fool on what should have been one of the best days of my life.
I nod once.
“Say it,” he rasps.
I lick my lips. “Yes.”
His shoulders soften a fraction, and he reaches out, gripping me around the waist to lift me off the bench. My feet hit the floor and my knees buckle.
“Oh.” I grab a handful of his shirt to keep myself up, but he’s already got a thick arm banded around my waist.
“I’m fine.” I try to push out of his grip, but my legs wobble and my balance goes again.
I glance up at him in confusion. “What did you do to me?”
I swear the asshole’s eyes have a sheen of smugness in them.
“A guy never made you come so hard you can’t walk after?” he husks.
He sweeps me up into his arms bridal style, and I glare at him. I don’t want to need him afterward. I want to collect my orgasms and then leave the asshole’s company as soon as possible.
“No.” I pout sulkily. “Besides, it was the cocktails.”
He’s wise enough to stay silent as he carries me toward the door.
