He had every right to be furious. It wasn’t fair to make him my priest and confess to make the sick regret go away. My actions had only shifted the weight from my shoulders to his heart. And after he let me in, after he told me what I meant to him, I deserved to carry it all.
I pulled my plate toward me and forced my trembling fingers to grip the fork and knife. Even lukewarm the steak was delicious but the more I ate, the more nauseous I felt.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t sit here and eat in silence, face to face with this problem I couldn’t solve. I couldn’t stand the stories my mind weaved with every passing minute, every ending more sad and hurtful than the last. I couldn’t bear having hurt him and not being able to do anything about it.
I put my napkin beside my plate and slid my chair back from the table.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he snapped, cutting his eyes at me.
“I don’t know yet,” I said hoarsely. “I need some air, some--” My voice caught and my nostrils flared as tears pooled in my eyes. “I hurt you.”
He looked away before the ‘you’ even fell from my lips, clearly trying to illustrate how false the statement was. How he was indifferent, despite evidence to the contrary.
He was trying to hurt me now, and I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t working. My lungs felt like they were clenched as tightly as the fists at my side. Every part of me felt heavy as I turned toward the door, just trying to keep it together until I got in the elevator.
“Don’t go.”
My gaze shot to my elbow. I was tethered by his hand burning through the silk fabric, holding me in place. This time when I looked in his eyes, I didn’t see what he wanted me to see--I saw what he didn’t. I saw vulnerability and a need that made my heart go from gasping for its next breath to a wild, racing thing.
I was putty in his hands as he wheeled me back to face him. He gripped my chin, forcing it up until his intense gaze captured me. He was looking at me, looking through me, trying to find the truth. If I was sorry. If Cade meant nothing.
I felt dizzy and gangly, stripped down to mismatched parts and pieces. Actions spoke louder than words and my actions painted an ugly, contradictory picture. All I knew, all I cared to know, was that I loved Jacob.
He didn’t relent, bringing me closer until I swore he gazed upon my very soul.
I couldn’t hide. I didn’t want to.
Heat gathered between my thighs and I couldn’t help but arch into his embrace. I knew it was unfair to say the words with my mouth, but I had no choice but to say them with my body.
My hands drew up with a mind of their own, stretching up and down the front of his shirt, feeling the answering solid muscle beneath. My lips parted slightly as I replaced my fingertips with my chest. My solid, aching peaks strained against my bra, needing skin to skin. Flesh to flesh.
He let out a lustful groan as he brought both hands to the side of my face. “You don’t know what you’re asking. With everything going on and with you looking at me like that…” His fingertips fanned the warmth in my cheeks as he gripped me tighter. “I don’t know if I can hold back, Leila.”
I turned my head slightly and brought his thumb to my mouth. I slid my lips down the digit, and when I retreated, grazed it with my teeth. “I don’t want you to hold back.” The final word danced on my tongue. “Sir.”
Something in his eyes changed and his lips spread into a hungry grin. My clothes melted away beneath his skillful fingers and I said to hell with protocol and tore open his shirt, buttons flying.
His eyes were a fusion of shock and desire. “You’ll be punished for that.”
I grinned up at him as I went to work on the fly of his trousers. “Good.”
I wasn’t sure who cleared the table, sending dishware shattering to the floor, and I didn’t care. All I knew was the way my body clicked against the contours of his like we were made for each other. Beautiful tendrils of warmth curled and uncurled in my lower abdomen, fanning their fiery fingers outward until the blaze roared louder than training or rules.
I claimed his mouth, knowing he was about to admonish me, remind me, ground me; but I needed to listen to the orders of the ache. I kissed him like our lips would never meet again, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, forcing him to match my fevered rhythm or be left in the dust.
He gripped a fistful of my hair, tugging me closer with a moan. His body tightened beneath me, and he pulled me backward, breaking contact. I let out a groan of desperation, my lips inches away from his. I didn’t want the lull to allow my head take the wheel. I just wanted him. I needed him.
It went from a recommendation to an order as tingles of pain raced across my scalp. His eyes washed over my face, taking in my wild lust with a chuckle.
“There’s nothing sexier than a woman who knows what she wants, love.” His smile dimmed. “But do not forget your place. I am in charge and I will decide how to use that beautiful body of yours.”
“Then use me,” I whined, my body hungry for more of him and less talking.
I swirled my h*ps and I could feel how swollen he was. His desire was fighting and raging against me, despite the measured tone of his voice or controlled way his thumb brushed my cheek.
“Let me taste you, Jacob.” Urgency flooded me and I almost said to hell with it and just did the thing we both wanted.
His eyes narrowed over my face, desire turning the cerulean near black. “You won’t be the only one tasting today.”
The table barely creaked as I vaulted my body up and turned until I was trembling, eye-level with his beautiful swell. The first word that came to mind was majestic. It was a strange word to use to describe a c**k unless I was from the Regency era, but it just felt right. It was solid as a rock, veins pulsing as his manly musk surrounded me. All I wanted was to worship it. To worship him.
I ran my tongue over my top lip before I took him in my mouth. I hovered at the tip, honey, salty desire seeping from him. His thigh muscles pulled tight as a bow string, sharp hisses echoing over me as he sucked in breaths. Even without words I knew he was enjoying the way I teased his cock.
And then I felt his mouth on me.
He didn’t tease or wait for my body cues. He gripped the globes of my bottom and drew me closer. He didn’t care if it threw me off kilter or prevented me from taking care of him. He rewrote the rules of the position, but I gave no complaints.
He buried his mouth in my secret folds, his tongue on a mission as he went places and sparked sensations that drove me wild. He knew what he wanted and nothing would keep him from it. He was relentless and the maddening pressure built, expanding until there was only the throb. I could come as easily as drawing my next breath, but he hadn’t said so.