Page 8 of Forbidden Girl

That’s classic Callum Monaghan, control-freak extraordinaire. If it were anyone but Merrick—my best friend on earth and the only person I really trust—asking me to remain reachable, I’d throw my iPhone into the goddamn harbor. “Yes.”

The guys depart and I’m finally on my own. I take out my phone, type a message to Jules.

My evening just freed up. I’ll get us a room if you can you give the henchmen the slip.

I receive her reply almost immediately.

Already done. And a whole night together! Yes, please. See you soon. :)

Clever girl. I can’t keep myself from smiling like a fool.

There’s a gentle knocking on the hotel room door. I open it to find Jules shuffling in place like a nervous six-year-old at her first sleepover—which is half true, for us. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Hi.” She moves to give me a little wave but then thinks better of it, which makes me grin. I check myself, and then check the hallway to make sure she wasn’t followed.

“You gonna stand there ’til the sun comes up?”

She rolls her eyes as she steps through the threshold. I close the door behind her.

The very next second, she rushes me, slamming my back against the wall. She’s got me by the collar and her mouth is more demanding than it has ever been. She’s undoing the buttons of my shirt. My hands are on her ass, below her skirt. No. For the first time we have time, and we’re damn well going to take it.

“Whoa,” I say, still kissing her. I’ve never not wanted to kiss her before, but the inclination is too strong. I want it unhurried, the way she’s always deserved it. I pry my shirt from her hands.

She looks at me, dumbfounded, lips twisted in a frown.

“What’s the rush? For once we can afford to take it slow.”

The thought hadn’t dawned on her until I said it, but as it does her face lights with a quiet joy. “We can.”

“Yeah.” I push off the wall with my foot, usher her further into the suite. She’s expecting me to lead her to the enormous king bed or the Victorian-style red velvet settee, and seems confused when I don’t. I let go of her hands, strip off my shirt, and toss it on a chair, then undo my jeans and slip out of them. “Shower?”

“That sounds fabulous.”

“Come here.” I reach for her again, tug her toward me. She allows me the pleasure of undressing her and I do it methodically, my hands lingering on her skin longer than is necessary. When she’s naked, it’s my eyes’ turn to linger. If she isn’t the most exquisite of all God’s creatures. I chase the thought away as I unclasp my bra, slide it off. Then my panties.

The water is scalding, so hot it could sear the flesh right off my bones. That’s how I like it—painful, dangerous—as close to boiling as I can stand. I welcome the torrent as it rushes over me. But Jules is hesitant, standing at the open glass door, her nude frame somewhat obscured by thick steam. I must have a disapproving air about me, because she forces her doubt away and ventures in.

The stream hits her and her sensitive alabaster skin goes instantly red. She winces but doesn’t voice her discomfort. That won’t do. I face the twin nozzles, turn the one marked H. The temperature change is immediate. “Better?”

“Much. Thanks.”

I take her by the waist, wrench her fully under the water. Her blonde hair is soaked and spilling around her shoulders. I bunch it up, drape it down her back. “Don’t thank me, just tell me what you need and you’ve got it.”

Her eyes go wide at my words, as if she’s never been more caught off guard by anything in her life. She doesn’t speak, rather frames my face with her hands and kisses me gently.

Gentle. I don’t know how to do that. I never have before. It’s always been rough-and-tumble. Meaningless dalliances. I don’t make love, I fuck. But she makes me want to learn. I deepen the kiss without urgency, guide her backward to the wall. I have her pressed up against the warm, wet tile, the tip of my tongue hinting to her lips that it longs to be inside her mouth. She accepts, and it’s different from every other kiss we’ve had. Tender. More precious. I’m completely absorbed in her, like she is the only thing that exists in the world. Just her—her beautiful body and her beautiful soul.

With that I realize that I am well and truly fucked. Falling in love with her is going to be much too easy. I’ve already got one foot through the door.

I move my lips down her neck to her clavicle, savoring every inch of her skin. And then her breasts—each a perfect mouthful. I pick her up, support her slight frame with one arm and a bent knee, and it’s the first time I’ve noticed how much smaller than me she is. By comparison, I’m built like a linebacker—tall and broad. She’s… Fun Size.

She wraps her legs around my torso. My instinct is to get straight to the point, keep sucking on her tits, plunge my fingers into her, and work her pussy until she comes. It takes everything I have to fight against it.

I refocus on her mouth. She’s surprised; I can feel her lips hesitate against mine, though it passes in a millisecond. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I pull back. I need to see her.

“What?” she whispers.

Those eyes. “Nothing.” I kiss her cheek. “I want you, but in the bed.” I didn’t say anything profound, so I don’t understand why her expression looks otherwise.

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