Page 57 of Forbidden You

“No,” I bark. “I gotta go.”

“Home?” he jeers. “To Kayla?”

“Shut up, Jay. Say hi to your wife for me.”

“She’s not my wife. Yet,” he adds quickly, then continues. “Nice job changing the subject, asshole.”

“I know, it’s a talent. Talk to you later.” I hang up, rubbing my palm over my face, letting out a grunt, because I have not thought this through.

If she’s not leaving, how am I ever going to keep my distance?

14

Ican’t fucking concentrate.

After I went up to the penthouse, I retrieved my book from my room, and now I’m sitting on the couch with Fifty Shades of Grey in my lap, my leg spread out in front of me, but not one combination of letters is molded into a word.

My mind keeps wandering to the paradox of a man I’m living with.

The kind expression he kept offering his dad.

The way he cornered me in the elevator.

His lush, sunlit meadows’ eyes burning through my skin.

I’m drawn to him like my next breath.

He walks through the door a few minutes later, offering me that GQ model smile when his gaze meets mine.

“Your father seems nice,” I tell him as he kicks his shoes off and joins me on the couch.

“You’re only saying that because he said you were pretty.”

I shrug, closing my book with a smile. “I like a man who can appreciate female beauty and isn’t afraid to voice it.”

His compelling gaze narrows to slits. “I appreciate female beauty and am not afraid to voice it.”

“Let me rephrase that. I like a man who can appreciatemyfemale beauty and isn’t afraid to voice it.”

“You’re gorgeous,” he says the words abruptly, with a sense of comfort that has me gasping for air, and I throw my head back in bewilderment.

There’s a rawness to it. A pureness that makes it sound completely different from any other man who ever told me I’m beautiful, or pretty, or gorgeous. As if it’s not just something he’s saying to get in my pants. No, he actually means it.

They are not empty, and I swallow away the emotions that it unleashes to the surface, before sucking in a breath and regaining my sassy stance.

“Are you kidding me?”

“What did I do now?” He laughs, propping up his feet on the table. His hand sits next to him as if his fingers want to reach out to my feet.

“You gave me a no flirting rule two days ago.” I point my finger at him.

He scoffs, moving his gaze to the ceiling for a short moment. “And how is that working out for you?”

“Not the point.”

“Then what’s the point?” The look on his face is as mocking as it is interesting, and inwardly I sigh at his beauty. A smile haunts his face, and his eyes are peering at me in anticipation. There is a healthy glow on his sharp jaw that makes me want to reach out and cup his cheeks between my palms before I kiss him with passion.

I want to get lost in his touch, and melt with him as one.

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