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“Whatever you want.” He looks me over. Everywhere his gaze lingers feels electric, glowing beneath his attention but desperate for more. When his eyes meet mine again, there’s that look, the one that makes me feel like everything. “What do you want, Raine?”
Twenty
Jack
Raine doesn’t answer me. Instead, she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me, and I forget whatever it was I asked her in the first place.
“I need more than this,” she says when she pulls away.
I don’t have enough blood flowing to my brain to know what she’s talking about. “Than...?”
“Kissing. I need more than kissing.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Very sure,” she says.
“Okay.” We move to the couch, and I tug her into my lap and kiss her again. Raine refuses to wear real clothes whenever she’s in the flat, and thank God for that, because she’s wearing these little sleep shorts that leave hardly anything to the imagination. I slip a hand beneath the jumper and cup one of her breasts. She grinds into me, and I feel as if I’m half out of my mind already, and we’re both still fully dressed.
What do you think you’re doing?
Not now.
She’s your employee.
We’ve talked about it. It’s fine.
Are you sure? What if you only heard what you wanted to hear?
She told me she wants more.
But what if you get carried away? What if she changes her mind and you can’t stop? How can you be sure this is consensual?
I pause.
“Jack,” Raine says.
I lift my gaze to hers. “Are you sure you want to—”
“Yes.”
“You don’t feel pressured or—”
“I don’t feel pressured.”
“But what if you do, and you just don’t realize it? What if you only realize after—”
“I won’t.”
“But what if I hurt you?”
“You won’t.”
“What if—”
“No morewhat ifs,” Raine says. I search her face, trying to figure out if I’ve annoyed her, while at the same time looking for any signs that my OCD is right. “I want you. I trust you. And anything that makes you doubt either is a lie.”
“You’re sure—”
