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“Whitney.”
“What am I doing here? What are you hoping to gain?”
She’s always been insightful. Then again, she’s smart, poised, assured as only someone raised with money and surrounded by a family full of sharks can be.
“I want what you promised me eight years ago. But since I can’t have your virginity”—or your heart—“I’ll settle for my pound of flesh.”
Whitney opens her mouth to say something. I don’t want to hear it. I’m done talking.
To silence her, I grab her face with one hand, thumb and fingers pressing in just above her jaw with the right pressure to force her to open for me.
Her lips part. Her pink tongue perches on her upper lip as her eyes widen with uncertainty. My heart shudders. My skin is on fire. My cock aches.
God, everything about this woman turns me on.
It’s my last thought before I swoop down, seize her mouth, and force her lips even farther apart with my own.
The moment our kiss connects, I jerk. She’s like a jolt of pure electricity screaming fire through my body, especially when she stills against me…then suddenly softens with a little cry and throws her arms around my neck.
That’s all the green light I need.
I release her jaw, clutch my greedy fingers around her nape, and deepen the kiss by sliding my tongue against hers. Fuck, I can’t stop myself from inhaling her. She’s every bit as delectable as I remember—but more. She’s no longer cotton-candy sweet. Now, she’s a complex flavor, like a perfectly balanced dessert, some combination of sugary and salty that lingers and makes me crave more.
I fall into her. I lose myself in her. And even though she’s killing my good intentions and self-control, I let myself drown in her.
A groan slips free as I pull her up. She clambers onto my lap. I barely have to encourage her to get closer before she melts against me, angling her head to allow me even deeper into her hot, honeyed mouth.
I drop a palm to her hip and use it to drag her closer. With the corner of my brain still functioning, I realize she doesn’t kiss like a woman who’s been satisfied well and often by her fiancé. She kisses with the desperate hunger of someone lonely, who’s been craving touch. I can use that against her, to make her putty in my hands. But I can also use that to pleasure and sate her, to make her sigh with the kind of bliss she’s never known. I’ll make it my mission to be her fucking best.
And if she still walks away at the end…well, I really will know what she values hasn’t changed.
I’m distracted when her fingers find their way under my tie, to the buttons of my dress shirt beneath. She plucks them open and slides her fingers under the fabric, smoothing the tips over my skin. I start sweating. Then she eats at my lips and makes these seductive little sounds that spark an even hotter desire in my gut. She climbs all over my lap, changing positions, trying to get even closer. It’s all I can do not to plaster her against me and forget about everything but the pleasure.
As much as I’m curious to see what Whitney would do and how far she would go if I gave her free rein tonight, I can’t forfeit that kind of control. I need her under my hand, under my command, under my body.
When she tosses my necktie over my shoulder and attacks the rest of my shirt buttons, I grab her wrists to stay her. “Don’t.”
Her breathing is labored, her eyes wide and excited. “Jett…”
I shake my head coolly. But my expression is a lie. Inside, I’m thrilled that she’s so unabashed and eager. That she’s already begging.
“Who’s in control?”
She swallows as a frown settles between her brows. Resignation follows.
Her downshift is a kick to the solar plexus. I hate that I put that expression there.
But I have a plan. I need to see it through.
“You,” she finally murmurs.
“That’s right. I want you on the bed. Flat. Legs spread.”
A wariness I don’t precisely understand crosses her face. If she was ready and willing to jump on me mere moments ago, why is she hesitating now? Do the restraints scare her? Or do I?
Finally, she collects herself and nods before crawling off my lap, chin held high. Then she climbs on the bed on all fours and rolls to her back, meeting my stare with challenge in her eyes. She settles her feet a few inches apart.
That won’t do.
But damn if she doesn’t look absolutely beautiful spread across this sumptuous bed all sleek and rosy-cheeked and ripe for fucking.
Never taking my stare from her, I rise to my feet, standing tall, and slowly tear away my tie. My coat follows, then my half-buttoned shirt. I shrug it off my shoulders and stand over her, naked from the waist up.
