Page 68 of Crushed By Love

“We did but we signed our lives away to do it. If we leave King Media, we lose everything and have to start from scratch.”

“And you’d never do that, would you?” It seems obvious that he’s stuck but it’s not like behind golden bars is a horrible place to be. There are worse things in life.

“I don’t know,” he admits, “but I’ve thought about it.”

To say I’m shocked is an understatement. “I understand why you might want to and I do believe you are capable of success with or without your father’s company . . .” My voice trails off. I don’t want to say the wrong thing, but this conversation has me unsettled.

“But?” he prods.

“But you have it really good, better than I think you realize.”

He’s quiet for a moment before muttering, “money isn’t everything.”

“That’s easy to say when you have so much of it that you don’t even have to think about it,” I argue, heat building. “You’d feel differently if you were in my shoes. I’d kill to have what you have.” My cheeks flush at the admission. But it’s true. Well, maybe not kill, but I’d definitely trade just about anything for that kind of security. I’ve never known peace and money might be able to buy it. “I’m not just talking about money. I’m talking about security. You’re going to have what you need for the rest of your life. You’re in a position that ninety-nine percent of people will never be in no matter how hard they work.”

“You probably think I’m ungrateful for complaining.”

I don’t know what comes over me, maybe I’m challenging another version of myself, the brave one that knows how to touch a man, but I roll closer to him and run my hand along the smooth planes of his jawline. He tenses but I don’t stop. The little hairs where his afternoon shadow is growing rub like sandpaper under my fingertips. My bold move sends shivers through my entire body, but I make myself do it anyway. Because I want to feel him. But also because I want him to understand my thoughts. He’ll never be able to empathize with them, but he could at least try to understand my perspective.

“I don’t think you’re ungrateful complaining about your situation.” Maybe spoiled and short-sighted, but I don’t say those things. “And I do think you’d make a fantastic doctor. But I also think you’ll be a kick-ass CEO when the time comes. Could you find it in yourself to enjoy it? Maybe you could create projects that are fulfilling or maybe you could give back to those less fortunate. There’s got to be something you can do and I know you’re brilliant enough to figure it out. You just have a way about you that others don’t have.”

I’ve said too much. His ego is inflating before my eyes.

“And what way is that?” His eyes flare and he inches closer, our breath mingling. We’re facing each other now. Lips only a few inches apart.

“A way of getting what you want.” My voice is husky. Needy. A mirror of what I’m feeling inside.

“What is it that I want right now?” The question is a dare, a challenge. One I’m still scared to meet, but that I can’t possibly back away either.

“To feel good,” I breathe, every emotion I’m feeling today pooling right into the apex between my thighs. Anticipation buzzes through me and we haven’t even kissed. At least not in a way that counts. If we don’t kiss, I might cry.

“Like this?”

I expect him to kiss me, but he doesn’t, he touches me. His eyes are holding mine, gazes locked together, as he slides his hand between the waistband of my shorts, fingers slipping under my panties. His fingers are pure temptation as he teases them into my heat, gently pinching my sensitive clit. My gasp is instant. The sensation he’s already building in me is intense and addictive. I need more.

I whimper my approval, and he scoots in closer, rubbing the tender flesh. “Does this make you feel good?” I nod into his shoulder, angling my face away from his. Using his free hand, he cups my jaw and tilts it back to look at him. “Keep your eyes on mine, Juliet. I want to see you when you come.”

It’s perhaps the most vulnerable thing I’ve ever experienced, but I do it anyway, keeping our eyes locked as he strokes me. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs his approval. “Do you always get this wet?”

Truthfully, no. “Only for you,” I whisper.

His eyes flare, mouth quirking at the corner. He’s being bold, maybe I should be bold too.

“What do you want?” I ask huskily, because whatever it is, I’m prepared to give it.

He smiles like the devil. “To bury myself in your cunt and make it cry for me.”

Oh. My.

I didn’t expect dirty talk, but I must like it because it has my entire body lighting up. The electricity skitters through my entire body. Control slipping, I buck my hips to arch my sex against his fingers, creating more tension.

“You want more?” he chuckles and I nod vigorously. “You want my cock?”

I nod again. I do. God help me, but I do.

He slides his fingers down further, slipping one inside me, and then two. My legs fall open. “You’re so tight,” he growls, moving his fingers more intently.

“It feels so good,” I moan, my voice coming out entirely different than it ever has before, breathy and wanting. I’m so close to release—it’s the feeling of being empty and then filled and I want it desperately.

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