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A thought skittered through his mind—the idea of her taking everything he’d taught her and unleashing her new seduction skills on another man.
Yes, she was free to do that. He should welcome that. That was the entire fucking point of their thirty days together, something he would do well to keep in mind before he started craving an emotional response from his student.
Still, there was one thing Eva needed to learn—
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” he murmured. “If you learn one thing from what we’re doing, learn this: sex is at least eighty percent mental. I might have the reputation for not getting emotionally involved, but I promise you, my head is always in the game. If I wanted to keep things strictly business, cause and effect, I could take care of my needs myself. You could too.” He moved closer. “So from now on, I need more than your body, Eva. I need your mind. Fully engaged.”
“My mind is engaged,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly.
“Is it?” He took her arm, pressing her against the wall so that he could feel her heart beating madly. They stood there, eyes fixed on one another, breathing each other in for what seemed like an eternity. He could tell there was something on her mind by the way her lips trembled and her eyes searched his.
“So tell me,” he demanded. “What are you thinking?”
Eva’s mouth parted, closed, parted again.
“She was naked. Under her coat,” she finally whispered. “Is that what men like?”
“Sometimes,” he answered. He pressed his lips against her hairline, savoring the sweet innocence in her question. He found it impossible to believe she didn’t know what she was doing to him. Dressed in her seductively simple blouse and skirt that showed off her curves,
her eyes aglow with the newness of it all, Eva was a million times more alluring than Lucy had ever been.
Which led him to a thought that made his stomach drop. She’d come to him wanting lessons on how to drive a man wild, but Eva Fiorini didn’t need lessons.
Not one fucking bit. And it was only a matter of time before she realized that.
“Have you ever done that? What she was talking about,” she asked. “Slept with two women at once?”
He shook his head almost imperceptibly. Maybe he had wanted that at some point. It certainly wasn’t the first time a threesome had been presented as an option, but more than one lover in his bed had never been his style.
But even if it had been, there was no way he would share Eva, not with Lucy or anyone else.
Her lips parted, silently begging to be kissed, but he didn’t give her what she was asking for. He wanted to deny her, make her wait, make her as crazy as she was making him.
His hands dropped to her sides. He began to tug her skirt up to her thighs as he pressed himself, hard, against her, still denying her that kiss. She tilted her mouth closer to his, but he pressed his lips together and urged her back against the wall, dominating her. “I assure you, I have only one pussy on my mind right now.”
He roughly prodded between her legs, finding her wet, bare flesh. Ripping the skirt up to her waist, he thrust a finger into her, making her cry out as his breath fanned her neck.
“I see you’ve learned something,” he murmured into her ear. “Now, we’ll address the next part of your education.”
Chapter Seven
Eva
Over the years, Eva had had a thousand fantasies about losing her virginity, and though the details would change nearly every time, one aspect always stayed the same.
It had always been Jack.
She’d often pictured his home, but she’d never imagined his penthouse flat would look this way. She’d expected something modern and minimalist, all bright clean lines and angles. But this place had more of a homey look.
The floor-to-ceiling windows were there, but they were half obscured by overflowing bookcases of darkly lacquered wood—vintage English, Eva guessed, though she’d never been into furniture. Jack hadn’t struck her as an antique collector, and she’d never seen him in tweed, but there were enough wing-back and distressed leather chairs in the place to make her think she’d stumbled onto the set of Downton Abbey.
She didn’t have time to full-out gawk, however. Jack guided her, with no pretense, over lush oriental rugs to his bedroom.
There would be no tour tonight. That much was obvious from the way he’d unzipped and dropped her skirt to her ankles in the foyer and unbuttoned the top buttons on her blouse in the living room. Jack clearly had only one thing on his mind—getting her naked as quickly as possible.
Fine by her.
By the time he pushed open the door to his bedroom, he’d already succeeded in undoing most of the buttons on her blouse. She spotted an enormous, intricately-carved poster bed, but before she could fully investigate, he whirled her around to face him.
