Page 128 of Falling for the Enemy

Soren disembarked from the Gulfstream right on time. The private car Marie arranged waited on the tarmac to drive him directly to The Vanderbilt Hotel.

Jocelyn had texted him that morning, wishing him a good day and informing him that she planned to sink into writing to keep herself from stressing over the baby shower. He reminded her not to work too hard and to try to get some rest tonight.

By seven that evening, he was dressed in his tuxedo and on his way to the charity gala. On the drive from the hotel to the Aldrich estate, he called Logan to check in on King.

“You couldn’t get a normal-sized dog, could you?” Logan said, sounding a bit overwhelmed.

“Oh, come on. He’s big, but he’s a gentle giant. Why are you so out of breath?”

“We were playing a game of Hide and Seek.”

Soren frowned. “Don’t let him out of the yard without his leash, Logan. That dog can run.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Did you lose my fucking dog?”

“Everything’s fine. Now.”

“Logan, I swear to God, anything happens to him⁠—”

“Nothing is going to happen to him, you maniac. Go have a drink and stop being such a control freak.”

Jaw tight, Soren ended the call. He should have asked Jocelyn to watch him, but he knew she already had a busy weekend ahead and didn’t want to add to that.

Already missing her this evening, he shot her a text.

Hope you’re relaxing.

Who is this?

Ha. Ha.

Very relaxed, actually. Sitting here, naked, soaking in the tub, wondering if the hand-held showerhead can reach me.

Soren cursed under his breath as the car slowly turned. He shifted in his seat. Even from a hundred and eighty miles away, she could make him hard.

His phone pinged before he could respond, and his eyes widened at the erotic photo that filled his screen.

Jocelyn’s long legs, dripping with suds, stretched out before him. Webbing his fingers over the screen, he zoomed in. “You. Little. Slut,” he murmured with a grin.

Her hand was submerged beneath the water as she touched herself. He shifted again, feeling especially restricted in his tuxedo pants. Jesus, she was sexy. He should tell the driver to turn around, forget tonight, screw tomorrow, and go to her. That was all he wanted to do.

But he couldn’t.

God, she was mean—torturing him like this.

You better be imagining my hand touching you.

Your hand. Your mouth. Your big cock.

Shit. Soren adjusted himself.

You’re making me hard.

Touch yourself.

Can’t. I’m with someone.