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“You know exactly where I’ve been sleeping every night,” I point out.
She shrugs, moving on to pick at her nail now.
“French women are beautiful.”
“Are they?” I ask. “I wouldn’t know, I don’t look at them.” When she still doesn’t face me, I reach for her hands where they’re joined in her lap and envelop them easily in mine. A buzzing sensation is palpable beneath my skin where I touch her, like when two powerful magnets come together. Both of us stare quietly as my thumb rubs soft circles along the back of her hand. Eventually, I whisper, “I’d never cheat on you, I told you that. So no, I haven’t been with anyone else.”
Finally, she looks up and meets my eyes. Relief explodes across her features, quickly replaced by uncertainty.
It’s like she’s bracing herself for heartache.
“I…it wouldn’t be cheating. We’re broken up.”
I reach over to grab her chin, my thumb dragging heavily across her bottom lip. My heated eyes follow the way her plump lips move under my touch, fantasizing about the next time I’ll have them wrapped around my cock.
I flick my gaze back up to meet hers.
“Not to me we’re not,” I rasp.
Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips, brushing teasingly over my thumb. She swallows thickly when an answering rumble sounds deep in my chest.
“What brought this on?” I question, roughly.
She shifts in her seat, uneasy. “You didn’t freak out when I was dancing with Nolan, you didn’t intervene or react at all, which isnotlike you.” She pauses, turning her head out of my grasp. “I also overheard this woman talking to her friends about how hot you were and how she was going to get you in her bed, and then I turned around and she was gone and so were you. Without saying goodbye.” She pauses. Adds, “You always say goodbye.” Her voice is so guileless, so young, that it pierces right through my chest and leaves a painful ache. She swallows thickly, like she has a mass in her throat. “I–I thought, I really thought…”
“You thought I went home with her.”
It’s not a question but she answers anyway.
“Yes.”
“You were jealous.”
Nera shakes her head, no.
“I was devastated.”
Dark satisfaction blooms in my chest. Fresh arousal springs to life knowing she’s just as possessive of me as I am of her.
I cup the back of her neck in my large palm and force her to look back at me.
“Do you believe me when I say I didn’t touch her? That I didn’t even look at her, that no one else means anything to me except you?” I demand. “Do you trust me?”
Her eyes go between mine, searching for truth, but she’s almost immediately nodding assentingly. “Yes.”
“Good girl,” I purr, enjoying the pink hue that stains her cheeks in response. “You noticed I was gone, huh? Did you miss me?”
“Maybe a little,” she answers, giving me a small smile.
I drop my head back against my headrest, looking down at her through lidded eyes and smirking. Her gaze is heated as it drops first to my lips and then to my open throat.
She swallows with difficulty.
The tension is so thick that cum leaks from my cock. It’s hard and throbbing in my trousers and desperate for attention.
I don’t want her to leave – in fact, it feels very necessary for her to stay – but the longer she stays, the harder it’s getting to restrain myself from fucking her right in the front seat.
“I let you have your fun at the wedding because he isn’t me,” I growl, roughly.
