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Shaking off my thoughts, I suck in a breath and return the water pitcher to the refrigerator. As I bring the glass to my lips, Siân’s soft footsteps against the hardwood floors grab my attention. With raised brows, I turn in time to witness her in those tiny little shorts she likes to wear to tease me. Her hair is a mess atop her head, and the collar of her oversized shirt hangs off her left shoulder.
Her eyes are wide, almost as if she’s got something she wants to say but is a little too afraid to let it out. Siân glances around the room while running a nervous hand along the back of her neck. Then she takes a step forward and rests her palm on the island.
I lean against the counter, watching her over the rim of the glass. At this point, I’m not even drinking it, but I can see the nerves rattling through her. She definitely has something to say and looking me in the eye will make that harder for her. One thing I’ve learned about this woman is that she thrives without pressure. Just let her be. Allow her to be herself, and she’ll show you exactly who she is or what she wants.
The urge to speak, to tell her to come and take what she needs, is loud, but I hold it in. Her desire is written all over her face and has been all night long. But instead of giving in, she battled with herself and the news of her missing caretaker, probably hating herself for having needs when the woman who’s loved and protected her all these years is missing.
“What happened to that rest you were supposed to be getting?” I say after a beat and set the glass on the counter, resting both palms against the surface.
I wait for her to speak, to say or give me any sign of what’s on her mind. Instead, she remains quiet and rushes toward me. In an instant, her mouth is on mine, much like it was that day in the front seat of the car. When she’s too afraid to speak, to share her deepest thoughts, her body does it for her.
I’ve waited so long for this moment—for her to give herself to me—to want me, and I won’t ever give it up. So I wrap my arms around her waist and turn us so that she’s trapped between the counter and me.
I pull back to look at her, immediately recognizing the darkness in her gaze. This is more about her and what she needs to escape than it is about us, but the selfish asshole nature in me doesn’t care. Her needs satisfy my wants, and though I know it’s wrong, and in some way, I’m taking advantage of her vulnerability, I can’t stop myself.
She’s mine, and I am hers.
With my hands digging into her sides, I lift her and set her on the countertop. A shudder runs through her once her bare thighs connect with the cold surface. My girl is impatient, pushing the chill to the back of her mind as she cups my face and brings my mouth to hers again.
Her touch pales compared to her kiss. It’s soft and that of a nervous woman, but her lips move hard and fast against mine. She’s conflicted, unsure if she should give or take. I fight the urge to help and guide her and finally claim her body for myself. That’s not what she needs, not tonight at least.
She needs to take charge of this moment and own whatever pleasure she seeks, the pleasure she’s been missing out on. So, for tonight, I stifle the beast inside me, no matter how badly it wants to escape. This whole game has been about trust, and tonight, I’ll give her that. I’ll show her I am the only man she can truly let go with. Teach her the way a queen should be treated and introduce her to a world where what she says goes.
A deep rumble builds in my chest when she runs her nails along the underside of my earlobes. The touch is subtle, but that spot always drives me crazy. My mind races a mile a minute as I think about the things I want to do to her tight little body. And when I feel her pebbled nipples against my naked chest through the fabric of her shirt, I nearly lose my shit.
Even though I hate to put even the smallest of gaps between us, I break away and stare into her sated eyes. “What do you want, Siân?” I ask while skating my fingers over her thighs, enjoying the slight jerk of her leg muscles from my touch.
Siân wets her lips, her gaze darting over mine with confusion written in the lines that form above her brow. “You?” she says it as more of a question.
