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11. Nirvana
Cash
She doesn’t know I’m coming. Instead of replying to her texts, I headed out the door, driven by urgency and possibly a little lunacy. Because I’m done waiting. We danced around each other for two months before giving in, and ever since then it seems like the world is conspiring to keep us apart.
My wife.
Her ex.
Too much baggage.
Reaching her door, I announce my presence with three loud raps of my fist. My heartbeat does an erratic, thunderous, dangerous dance in my chest as the soft pad of her footsteps narrow the distance between us.
I can already taste her, feel her, smell her. Hear her throaty cries when she comes. God, she’s in trouble. Heaven and Earth can’t stop me.
She swings the door open, and our eyes meet. She sucks in a breath.
I do too, but it does nothing to calm this disastrous storm inside me. It’s not the product of anger, though that emotion is wreaking havoc somewhere in the trenches of my gut. No, this is the consequence of agony, the result of Fate’s merciless fuck you.
This is the by-product of not only catching her in another man’s arms, but reliving the burned image every time I close my eyes.
This is possessive jealousy on steroids.
“I only need to know one thing. Do you want me?”
Narrowing her warm sable eyes, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and fuck, if I make her ache for nothing else, that come-hither nibble is reason enough.
“Answer me, Jules.” The fierce timbre of my voice widens her eyes.
“What kind of question is that? Of course I want you.”
I push my way into her apartment, backing her up step-by-step, and take her chin in my hand as her front door slams shut behind us.
“I won’t share you.”
“I won’t share you either,” she counters.
“Understood.” Catching a whiff of her vanilla scent, I lower my gaze to her pajama-clad body. “Take off your clothes.”
Her breathing quickens, and the alluring swell of her tits draws my focus. She brings her hands to the buttons of her top, hypnotizing me as she works them free. But I feel the weight of her stare and all but fall into her eyes.
Time seems to stop as she studies me. “You’re angry with me,” she says, a ring of truth in her statement.
“Yes.”
“Nothing happened.”
“You kissed him. That’s something.”
“He caught me by surprise. It didn’t—”
“Finish taking off your top,” I interrupt, voice thick as I gesture toward her cotton PJs.
She shrugs out of her night shirt, and then she’s standing in front of me naked from the waist up. Hell, there’s something so fucking sexy about her vulnerability, and I respond to it in a very visceral way by shoving her to her knees.
“I want your mouth.”
Her mouth on my cock.
