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I keep my palm on her knee and scan the men at the table again. This time, I look at Bettencourt and his fan club like they’re extra chairs shoved up against the table. Chambers can’t take his eyes off his son. He only looks away when he thinks I’m watching him. What a sick motherfucker. Newhouse wears an impassive expression. His arms are crossed over his chest, but he’s leaning in like this is a show he’s waited years to see.
Bettencourt glowers. He’s probably debating whether to call me out. It’s within his power to have the guard shoot me. That would be a bad decision. I am following orders, after all. Having me killed for pushing the boundaries could make Chambers and Newhouselessloyal. And even if he kills me, they might still allow Jacob into the consortium. Ifthathappened, and Newhouse sided with both the Chambers men, Bettencourt would be outnumbered.
He comes to the same conclusion. Bettencourt meets my eyes with another silent flare of hatred. Then it disappears behind a stony façade.
I pretend not to notice.
“Ready?” Jacob asks softly.
I don’t see Elise’s nod, but she must give one. When I look back down, he’s inches away from her.
She’s looking at me.
I’ve been to many beautiful places around the city. I’ve taken quick trips to a number of beautiful destinations around the world. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as Elise’s eyes.
Jacob’s mouth makes contact. Jealousy screws itself in tight to my core, but I push it away. I told him to do this. Making this as involved and realistic as possible is what will save us. Withoutbreaking eye contact with Elise, I wind the fingers of my free hand through his hair and hold on.
I’m not controlling his movement, but Jacob can’t do anything without me feeling it. He shudders at my touch. It tugs at a memory just under the surface. His body would move just that way when we were in bed together. Everything felt new and exciting and wonderful when we were boyfriends. We didn’t know that we were running out of time from our very first kiss.
It’s grounding. But it’s like looking at an old photo of a nice day. It can’t tear me away from Elise’s face in the present.
She’s arresting in her pleasure. The most delicate pink flush glows across her cheeks. It reminds me of flower petals unfurling. Her lips part. The adorable stretch of skin at her brow wrinkles ever so slightly as her eyes widen. A soft breath escapes.
My base instincts want to yank Jacob away by his hair and snarl into his face, but a broader, more expansive realization wins out. After this, no one else is going to touch her.
There’s a chance I’ll never be able to appreciate her pleasure this way again. If she lets me stay with her, I’ll give her as much pleasure as she wants. But no matter how much I lose myself in her, a part of me is always on the defensive in sexual situations. I’m always waiting for the right moment to detach from my body. I want her, but that instinct will be with me for the rest of my life. I don’t know how to turn it off.
So although I’d rather be anywhere fucking else than this conference room, my heart takes Elise beat by beat. I’m wholly and completely fascinated by the deepening red of her face and the progression of her eyelids fluttering and then closing and the way her shivers increase as her orgasm gets close.
I want this to be over, and I want it to last. Damn me. Damn Jacob for being so proficient at licking her. Damn the consortium for engineering a fucked-up evening in hell that happens to have a piece of heaven embedded in it.
Elise’s eyes get a little wider. A flash of panic there. She tries to speak, but it’s almost on top of her.
I lean down and nip her earlobe. “Come, sweetness.”
She’s not loud and uninhibited when she comes, but she’s not quiet, either. Jacob grunts. Elise is trying her best to stay flat on the table. Jacob holds her in place. From the sound he made, it’s a fine line between using too tight a grip, which I’d punch him for, and letting her fall off the table.
The wave of her pleasure tapers off, and I keep my focus on her face.
The memory of the man in the alley reaches for the back of my neck, but I don’t let him take hold.
I’m choosing to do this. No one else is choosing it for me.
My hand tenses in Jacob’s hair, and he understands. He pushes back from the table, and from Elise, taking the chair with him.
I put my palms on her hips. Run them down over her thighs. Twice. Three times. Her hands tremble around the hem of her skirt. It’s rumpled in her grip. Tiny tremors run through her body. Elise’s lips are slightly parted. Tendrils of her hair have come loose from her bun. They’re mussed on my jacket like it’s one of the pillows on my bed.
I mean to say more to her. To siphon more power away from the men in the room.
No words come.
I’m struck by how beautiful she is. How incredibly brave. How sweet and good and perfect. There’s no protest in her dark eyes. No reluctance. The naked heat I see there is like a perfectly pressed shirt. It’s a shield between me and memory. Between me and the consortium.
I can’t ignore that they’re here. I can feel them sitting around the table, watching. I’m pumped full of so much adrenaline thatI can hear all three of them breathing. I’m aware of every shift in the air around us.
And I still want Elise.
She pulls her dress another inch higher. That’s my invitation. Her teeth tease at her bottom lip, and her eyes beg for me to be closer. They steady me at the same time.
