Page 178 of Twisted Knight

My heart swells in my chest in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore. And if I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure that I want to.

But I don’t know what the alternative is. I don’t know where to go from here when it comes to a man it can’t go anywhere with.

He takes a sip of his scotch and absently swirls the remainder around in the glass. I can’t take my eyes off of him. Nor do I want to as I replay every uniquely incredible thing that he’s made happen for me in the last ten hours.

Clayton fucking Seaburn.

My mind is still blown over how he made that happen. How he got the world’s most decorated cellist to fly in from London for a private performance for me. Me!

Moreover, how the idea ever crossed his mind in the first place. I mean … I’m still in complete and utter shock.

I move out to the patio and stand there studying him until he notices me. “Mmmm,” he murmurs, holding his hand out to motion me to come over to him. “You tired?” he asks.

I shrug. “Not really. I’m still on a high from everything. You?”

“I rarely sleep.”

I nod as my phone lights up on the table beside him once again. Holden frowns as he picks it up. “Does the guy ever stop fucking calling you?” he mutters as he makes a show of turning off my phone. “Bye-bye, Chad.” Clearly irritated, he tosses my phone but only when he looks back up does he take notice of me.

I’ve let my dress slide down my body and pool at my feet so that I’m standing in front of Holden in nothing but lacy underthings, my very expensive high heels, and his sapphires.

“Don’t be jealous of Chad. He gets a phone call. You get this.”

“Good god,” he groans as I move forward, straddle his thighs, and lower myself to sit on his lap. “Good fucking god.” His eyes roam over the parts of me he can see, and his cock hardens instantly beneath me.

I lean in so my lips are a breath from his. “Hey, Holden?”

“Hmm?” He runs his hands down my back, his touch electric.

“Mess my lipstick up.”

Our lips meet. It’s slow and taunting at first. Our breaths melding and tongues dancing in the moonlit night. There’s an undercurrent of desperation, but it stays just that. Beneath the surface—an indisputable constant—that takes second to our need to savor.

Our hands on each other’s skin. Our tongues in each other’s mouths. Our breaths shared as one. Our nerves tingling from each point we are touching.

He cups my breast that’s barely contained in my demi cup and then flicks his tongue over it as I grind over his cock still constricted by his slacks. It feels incredible. He feels incredible.

The warmth of his mouth on my skin as he laces openmouthed kisses everywhere he can. The strength in his hands as they move constantly over my skin. The hardness of his cock as I rub my clit over it with each rotation of my hips.

We move slowly. My fingers getting enough buttons undone so that he can get rid of his shirt. Me rising up so that he can push down his pants, his cock now free, thick and heavy against my parted thighs.

We kiss like this. With him ready and me soaking him. We kiss like there is no tomorrow to think about. Like the sun won’t rise for another twenty-four hours. Like we have no life to go back to where we can’t exist like this. Together. Out in public. Just us.

A man I still can’t figure completely out and a woman who is admittedly falling for him.

My breath hitches at the thought, but at the same time he pulls my panties to the side, and I lower myself ever so slowly down onto him so the sound gets lost and misplaced with the action.

“Look at me, Sunshine,” he murmurs as he fills me to capacity.

It takes a moment for me to hear him because I’m so busy riding the waves of pleasure that come with him filling me. But when I do, when my breath returns and mind clears, I find his eyes. His own are having trouble focusing as I purposely squeeze myself around him before forcing him to abide by his own command and meet mine. Our gazes hold and the softest of smiles turns up his lips before he pulls my face closer and his lips close over mine.

I begin to move like that. To rock my hips with our mouths met, our tongues touching, and our hands on the other’s heads. His framing my face and my fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his neck.

We’re hushed murmurs and sated sighs.

We’re rocked hips and grinding pelvises.

We’re slow and steady when all we’ve ever been before is fast and furious.