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That’s the worst thing. I have known this about him for a long time and yet here I am, fucking him and letting him drive me crazy when I should be running a mile in the opposite direction.
‘So what are you doing here? How can you be okay with that?’
A great fucking question! One I wish I’d asked myself sooner.
‘Hasn’t that horse already bolted? We’ve had sex together. Does it really matter why?’
‘I don’t know.’ His laugh is uncertain, his eyes cagey. ‘I’m not usually this...barbaric.’
He drops his mouth to my shoulder and bites me gently.
‘But with you...I don’t know...it’s like some animal instinct kicks in. I feel like I want to carry you over my shoulder and tie you to my bed.’
‘You’ve already done that. Check and check.’
A flicker of his lips acknowledges the truth of my reply. ‘I mean for days. I mean I want to feed you when it suits me. Let you drink the champagne that I tip into your mouth. But otherwise you’d exist for my pleasure alone.’
‘Maybe you just want that because you know I’d never go for it,’ I say hoarsely, hiding the fact that his words have evoked a powerful emotional need in me.
‘Maybe.’
Suddenly, his need gives me an idea. No, it gives me a bartering chip. ‘What if I let you go all Neanderthal?’
‘You think I haven’t already?’ he asks, the words full of hoarse self-condemnation.
I shake my head. ‘I think you’ve just scratched the surface.’ I cup his face, rubbing my thumb over his stubble. ‘So give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want.’
‘And what is it you want, Gemma Picton?’
I swallow my anxiety. What’s the worst that can happen? He’ll say no?
‘I want you to answer my questions. I want to understand you better.’
* * *
The shower is warm against my skin. I rub my body all over, letting the soap bubble and froth before turning the heat off and stepping out into an enormous soft towel. I dry myself and then reach for one of the luxurious robes hanging behind the door.
I’m nervous, as though I’m on a first date. But that’s stupid.
Because Jack doesn’t date. Come to think of it, I don’t really date either.
What we’re doing is fucking—sure, the best sex of my life. But still just sex. Two nights? Maybe more? But definitely not any form of happily-ever-after.
It’s sex. And it’s discovery.
I’m getting my curiosity answered—and I have been curious about Jack for as long as I’ve worked with him. I’ve wondered about the demons that drive him. The ghosts, real and imagined, that play on the edges of his mind.
Besides, it’s kind of win-win for me. I love the animal passion in him. So much so I’m terrified of myself. This way I get to find out more about the beautiful darkness of Jack Grant, and I get the beast in bed.
Perfect.
When I step out of the bathroom he’s arranging containers on an enormous dining table. It could easily seat twelve people, but he’s placed us at one end and, in a gesture that makes my heart thump, he’s even lit a candle.
‘Expecting company?’ I murmur with forced sarcasm, desperate to cover the trembling emotion in my chest.
‘That’s not what I’d call you,’ he responds in kind, but he winks at me and my heart pounds harder.
‘We’ve covered that already with—who was it? Amy someone?’
