Page 13 of The Price of a Promise

But instead of kissing me, his throat bobbed.“Cora.”

“What, babe?”

His gaze fell, and he sank to his knees in front of me, his palms tracing slow, intentional lines down the sides of my body.Every inch of me went electric beneath his grip.He didn’t normally waste time when we were alone together.And getting down onto his knees…was he finally going to pop the big question?He’d been hinting at it for over six months.Butterflies swarmed my belly as I waited for him to finally make good on the hinting.

But he didn’t say anything, just kept me pinned against the door with his gaze.His hands converged on the mound of my pussy, which was covered by my expensive leggings.His thumb slipped into the hot groove between my legs.I hadn’t worn panties—for him—but he was so good at weaponizing my own thoughtfulness.What was supposed to be a sexy surprise for him would now become my own unraveling.He dragged his thumb in a slow circle, and I arched toward him.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he finally said, curling his fingers around my hip.His thumb pressed in just the right spot against the fabric of my leggings.My breath hitched.

“Oh my God, Cora.”He dragged his thumb back and forth over the tight peak of my clit, which he could probably feel though my leggings, from how turned on I was.“You’re not wearing any panties, are you?”

A weak laugh slipped out of me.My head dropped back to the door.“How could you tell?”

“Because you’re always so sweet like that.”He wet his bottom lip and tugged at my leggings, jerking them down to my knees in one practiced swoop.His jaw flexed as he looked at my bare pussy head-on.

“Spread your legs.”

He never wasted time.I loved this about him.But the leggings bunched at my knees didn’t allow for a lot of give.“Babe, I can’t—”

“There we go.”The corner of his mouth lifted as my legs parted just a couple of inches.And then he dove forward, mouth to mound, burying his tongue between the lips of my pussy.His tongue found my clit first, eager and expectant, the warm heat feeling like both an old friend and the newest, most amazing sensation in the world.A moan began to escape, but I cut it off—his brothers were outside.Not like they couldn’t imagine what our first order of business was.

Axel made a muffled, sloppy noise.I was embarrassingly wet.It was always this way with him.

“Jesus, Axel,” I breathed, running my fingers through the messy length of his hair.I knotted my fingers in the strands while his tongue assaulted my clit.To ground myself and because I knew he loved it.He grunted, plunging his tongue into my slit with abandon.I arched harder against him, welcoming more.Axel snaked his fingers between my legs, pumping two fingers in and out of me slowly.

“You’re dripping.”He pulled back to look at me, his face shining with my juices.His heated gaze dragged up my body, then back to my pussy.“Jesus, you’re a fucking dream.”

A lazy smile drifted across my face, but it faded quickly when his thick fingers filled me again.He sucked at my clit, my head thudding against the door from the jolt of pleasure.I moaned again, but this time I couldn’t stop it.Axel worked his tongue mercilessly back and forth against the peak of my clit.The impossible bliss began a slow uncoiling inside me, sending out exploratory paths of heat and pinpricks through my entire body.

“Ohhhh, Axel.I’m close.”I thrust my hips against him, the pleasure rising to a rapid crescendo.When he eased his fingers deeper inside me, he sucked hard at my clit, and all the walls came tumbling down.Knees to jelly.Fireworks.Heat pummeling me, perfect bliss from head to toe.I slumped but he caught me, the door banging behind me as he propped me up.

From the living room, Trace and Damian were mocking us.“Oh, Axel!”Trace mimicked in a falsetto.

Giggles floated out of me.I couldn’t even open my eyes.

Axel’s rough voice brought me back to earth, the barely-there Kentucky accent making me melt further.“You okay, babe?”

I laughed and laughed.I was more than okay.I was perfectly happy in this moment.

And I knew it, because I spent every other moment of my lifenothappy.

I needed to hang on to this bliss for as long as I could.

Because the clock was ticking until real life set in again.As soon as I stepped outside the door of this apartment, the honeymoon was over.

CHAPTER FIVE

AXEL

My breath came out in a single white puff in front of me.New York was extra frigid today, though it might have been because I was about to enter the front doors of Margulis Realty.Cora had left my apartment that morning, and I could still taste her kisses on my lips.I felt both dreamy and reckless, like Romeo before he pulled all that crazy shit with Juliet’s family.Which was probably why I was here in the first place.

I knew a guy who worked for Allan.Entry level, but he was on the inside.Jake and I had gone to undergrad at Columbia together.I gave him $10 grand after we had our first windfall from when Trace squeezed Wall Street.He’d needed it to cover his mom’s funeral costs, and we’ve been linked ever since.There’s something about helping a guy pay for a funeral, I guess.I hadn’t planned on calling in a favor until Jake mentioned he worked on the bottom rung of Allan’s company.He knew the right people to get me on Allan’s schedule—under an alias, of course.

Just call me Spencer Wattford.

The inside of the building was slick and gray, like polished steel had sex with marble.Smackdab in the middle of the foyer was a ginormous glass sculpture, curling up out of the floor like tendrils of smoke.It was equal parts gaudy and fascinating—even though my first thought was that the sculpture represented the flames of the souls Allan burned in order to stay on his golden perch.

The air itself was blanketed with hushes, though I wasn’t sure if people were too afraid of Allan to make noise or if it came from reverence of the real estate industry.Allan’s company moving into this building had been a big deal in the early 2000s, apparently—not like I was in NYC then, or cared about his business, but Cora had told me the inaugural party here was one of her earlier memories—and well-documented inTimemagazine.

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