“Enough,” he bites out.
I laugh. “Jealousy looks good on you, Mr. Tyrant.”
His expression is pure anger.
I keep laughing. “There was no such thing. I didn’t even go to high school, in our system, there is no ‘high school.’ I finished at fourteen, then went to my grandparents’ house with my sister. We’ve been living in that countryside house ever since...”
I clap my hand over my mouth, eyes wide. “Tell me you won’t misuse this information,” I plead, horrified.
“I’ll see,” he drawls.
The sound of his phone ringing interrupts us. He pulls it out. I stare at the black device with longing. It feels like years since I last saw a phone.
He gets up and leaves.
How many days has it been since I last heard my parents’ voices? My grandparents’? Avi’s yapping, Leo’s taunts, Uncle Alex’s jokes, I’m even missing Zo’s silence.
He returns after a few minutes. I rise from the bed and walk to him.
“I want to talk to my family.”
“You can talk to them in three days.”
My face lights up. “Really?”
He nods, his expression unreadable.
“Don’t you have conditions? Like, I can’t tell them certain things?”
“You’re free to tell them whatever you want.”
I lift my shoulders, hands rising slightly. “Yeah, what can I even tell them? I don’t even know your name.”
He watches me for a silent minute, then turns and leaves—the conversation, apparently, over.
Isigh and go back to Bruno.
Chapter 20
Elowen
He works the buttons of the shirt I’m wearing. Without a bra to hide myself, my breasts bare to his gaze.He lowers his mouth to one nipple while twisting the other between leather-clad finger and thumb. I moan, arching up, offering him more.
He shifts his mouth from one nipple to the other, biting down lightly, pinching the other between forefinger and middle finger.
I cry out, a loud moan tearing from my throat. The pressure at my center builds, unbearable.He leaves my nipple—I make a weak sound of protest—he moves lower, to the place I need him most, and latches his mouth to my center. His tongue licks, the tip flicking my clit. I’m riding toward the peak, but I never land.
My eyes fly open.
I’m drenched in sweat, breath frantic, heart thudding against my ribs. My thighs press together; the pool between them is hot.
I look toward the couch. He’s not there.
I’ve never had such a vivid wet dream before. I should blame the books I’m reading, and the man who’s become the protagonist of every fantasy. A fierce ache coils in me.
Out of control, frontal cortex on vacation, I rise from Bruno’s bed. He lifts his head to watch me. I kneel, bend, and press a kiss to his head.
“I’ll be right back.”
