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It’s all warm and sensual and so perfect for a romantic seduction.
Except the thick black leather restraints dangling from each corner of the bed.
I can’t help it. When I see them, I gasp.
Beside me, Jett smiles and points to an open door tucked into a corner. “Use the restroom.”
“I don’t need to go.” The protest slips out automatically. I’m not trying to be argumentative.
His face tightens as he closes in. “Go now. You won’t have another chance to use it for a while.”
Because I’ll be restrained to his bed. Right.
With a nervous bob of my head, I hustle across the floor and duck inside, turning to shut the door behind me. As I do, I see Jett watching me with an unwavering stare until the second the door clicks shut between us.
Dear God, what am I doing?
I flip on the overhead lights and blink. I look flushed and aroused, pupils dilated, cheeks rosy. What will happen when he actually kisses me? Touches me? Fucks me?
I swallow. I can’t come apart yet. I need to hold myself together until I understand what he’s really after.
Then, I’ll have to make another life-altering decision.
After I peek at my lipstick, I take care of business, flushing the toilet and washing my hands. Then I fluff my hair again and sigh. I’m nervous and I’m wasting time. I just need to face Jett. I need to give him whatever he wants and let the chips fall.
Otherwise, I’ll be marrying Michael Crawley in three weeks. And I’ll never see Jett again.
Bracing myself, I pull the door open and step into the bedroom for what I’m sure will either be the best or the worst night of my life.
CHAPTER THREE
Jett
When Whitney finally pads out of the bathroom and into the room I brightly lit, I clench my fists for two reasons. First, it stops me from tapping my thigh impatiently. Second, if I don’t, I fear I’ll grab her, kiss her, throw her on the bed…and forget about every plan I have.
Breathe. Stay calm, logical, and measured.
When I see the stare she cuts my way and the uncertainty in her hazel eyes, it’s hard not to comfort her. It’s almost impossible to feel nothing.
I have to try. Unemotional was the way she treated me last time I saw her—in court. I do nothing except give her my power if I reveal everything in an unguarded moment.
“Are you ready?”
She shrugs. “As I’ll ever be.”
Maybe, but she looks nervous. That should please me. After all, I need the upper hand if I’m going to win my way. But there’s that part of me that remembers the innocent girl I once kissed breathless, who so softly and sweetly offered me her innocence. That girl didn’t seem capable of giving me a knife in the back, just her heart. The me then would have punched the me now for my plans.
But the me now is more practical.
“Excellent. Take off your robe and hand it to me.” I hold my palm up between us.
She hesitates, seems to gather herself to unknot the belt around her small waist, then slides the robe off her shoulders.
I stop breathing as she exposes her naked body to me again. No, I didn’t imagine how sexy she looked by the pool, under the moonlight. Her breasts, like the rest of her body, have matured. They are definitely more than a handful now, topped with dusky nipples I can’t wait to slide my tongue across. She’s built like an hourglass with a small waist that’s exaggerated by the lingering shadows in the room. Her hips have widened. They’re not a girl’s now, but a woman’s. She’s got long, sleek thighs for someone so petite. But it’s her pussy I can’t stop staring at. Under the sparse dusting of downy, dark hair, it’s puffy and pink.
I know where I’m going to expend most of my effort and energy tonight.
Finally, she drops the robe onto my palm. I toss it on the back of the nearby chair, then sit.
“Come here, Whitney.” I point to the floor in front of me.
Wordlessly, she does. I’d think she was calm—except for the pulse beating wildly at her neck. When we’re sharing breath and space, she stops.
I nod my approval. “Kneel.”
She hesitates, then descends gracefully to her knees, looking up at me with big, beseeching eyes that threaten to turn me inside out.
I can’t let her.
Instead, I fist a handful of hair at her crown and jerk her head back before inching forward in my seat, leaving her no doubt I mean to kiss her, rob her thoughts, obliterate her resistance.
Make her beg.
God, how many fantasies have I had about that?
“Jett?” Her voice shakes.
She’s incredibly brave to put herself completely in the hands of a wealthy, powerful enemy for a week who has an unending hard-on and an ax to grind. I have to give her points for that. The question is, what am I going to do next? Punish her for the choice she made as a girl that ripped out my heart? Or forget revenge for one night and give in to every urge I’ve ever had to make her scream my name?
