Page 45 of Broken Pact

I blink slowly, unable to stop the crooked grin from spreading across my face. “You’re kidding, right?”

She shuffles back a step and folds her arms across her chest. The fabric of her dress pulls tight, shining a spotlight on those perfect nipples I still dream about sometimes. I didn’t know nipples could be so fucking perfect on a person, but here she stands, proving me wrong once again. It was a running theme for us, back when we had our moment.

I’d be a fucking idiot not to jump at the chance to have another moment with her. It’s all I have to offer, anyway. A collection of moments, not long enough to form any kind of serious attachment. But more than enough time to reacquaint myself with her perfect body. My mouth waters at the idea of tasting her again.

She snaps her fingers in front of my face twice, and I blink, coming back to myself.

“Are you okay?” Her brows furrow low over her eyes, her mouth pinched into a frown.

I drag my palm over the scruff on my jaw. “Sure thing, baby. Just trying to figure out how you expect anyone to believe that you’re my girl if we don’t touch.”

“Stop that,” she snaps, readjusting her weight to her other leg.

I arch a brow and shove my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants. “Being reasonable? Being so fucking handsome? Being smart and kind and charming and thoughtful?”

A disbelieving snort leaves her. “Puh-lease, Jagger. We’re pretending for them, yeah?” She tosses a thumb over her shoulder in a general direction. “But you can’t bullshit me. I know you.”

I ignore the sharp sting that accompanies her words, shrugging my shoulders as if that’ll help it roll off my back. I should be used to that kind of thing though. What was it that my father used to say?

Worthless, lazy piece of shit.

There was more, but it was always the same start. I tuned it out after a while, but sometimes that shit creeps up on me when I don’t expect it.

“Well if you want to sell it, you’re gonna have to get your hands dirty, baby.”

“That,” she says with a snap and point of her finger. “Stop that. Touching each other is one thing, but pet names? No way. No one would believe that I willingly let you call me baby like I’m a child or something.”

I tongue the back of my teeth and shake my head. “How soon your memory fades. I recall many, many occasions where you liked it when I called you baby.”

Like I recalled it from the depths of my memory. An image rolls out behind my eyes. A nearly-naked Cora rubbing that perfect cunt of hers against my cock until she came, soaking her thong and my boxer briefs. Hair thrown back and her hands on her tits. Dry humping had never been so fucking hot.

She begged me to tell her every filthy thing that I wanted to do to that sweet cunt, and she came so hard I thought she was gonna black out.

Her chest flushes and her hand falls to her side with a loud slap. “Rule number two. Stop bringing up the past. I don’t need reminders, I was there.”

Her conviction would be a lot more convincing if she wasn’t so turned on. If her chest wasn’t heaving with labored breaths and her face wasn’t flushed with arousal.

“Counterpoint: reminders of our shared past help build this lie,” I murmur.

“Rule three: put on a fucking shirt.”

“I don’t think you mean that.” A laugh spills out of me, genuine and gleeful. “Rule number one: three weekly dates, two must be public.” I grin when her gaze stays glued to my dick, which he very much appreciates.

I drag my hand down my chest, her gaze zeroing in on it. I take my time, smoothing over every dip and ridge in my abdomen until I get to the waistband of my sweatpants.

She makes a noise, this desperate sort of squeak. Her feet shuffle her toward me a few steps, like she isn’t aware of what she’s doing.

“Fine,” she murmurs, almost like she’s in a trance.

I sink my teeth into my lip to smother my grin as I let my hand sink into my sweatpants. I fist my cock, stroking it a couple of times before rearranging it and sliding my hand out.

“Great. Rule number two?—”

She blinks quickly. “Wait, what? No. You tricked me with your dick,” she accuses.

I press my hand against my chest. “I would never.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’d believe you if you weren’t grinning like that. Whatever, I don’t agree to three dates.”

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