Page 44 of Tempted By Eden

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I had the chef prepare a little of everything.” James gestures to the table overflowing with food from seemingly every cuisine.

I let out a soft laugh. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. It looks delicious, but I’m not sure how much you think I can eat.”

He grins as we take our seats and pours us both a glass of wine.

The conversation starts light, flowing effortlessly. Until James asks, “So, tell me about your family. The Rossi clan?”

I tense, trying not to show it. The question is innocent enough, but it touches on dangerous ground. I’m not ready for that yet.

“It’s just my dad and me,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “My mom passed away a few years ago. Car accident.” The words are easier to say now, but they still sting. “And Dad’s battling cancer, but he’s doing well. They caught it early.”

James leans forward, his fingers brushing mine. “That’s great news. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.” There’s a flicker in his eyes, a flash of pain.

I nod, offering a small smile. “Yeah. He’s strong.”

His hand retreats, and his jaw tightens slightly, almost imperceptibly. There’s a momentary shift in the air between us, like he’s somewhere else for a heartbeat. “What about you?” I ask.

He eases back into his chair, smiling, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve got a younger sister and an adorable niece and nephew. My parents are obsessed with them. Can’t get enough.”

The warmth in his eyes returns, and for a second, the strain fades. The way he talks about his family makes my heart squeeze. There’s a tenderness there, a love that’s hard to miss.

We fall into easy conversation after that, talking about everything from our favorite foods to childhood memories—everything except the one thing looming between us: Leo. Malta. But that’s fine by me. I’m not ready to deal with that just yet.

By the time we’ve finished our second bottle of wine, the sexual tension has become distracting. My thoughts are no longer on the conversation but the way his gaze lingers on my lips.

Suddenly I’m standing, moving around the table to straddle him. His words trail off as I settle in his lap, my dress riding up to reveal my garter and stockings.

“Hey there.” His hands cradle the back of my head, pulling me closer.

“Hey yourself,” I whisper, our lips brushing.

There’s no need for more words. I press my lips to his, deepening the kiss as my hand works to undo his jeans. I trail kisses down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, and he groans when I finally free his hardness from the confines of his jeans.

Not wanting to lose the heat of his body against mine, I slide my panties aside, my breath catching as I position myself over him. I don’t wait for a condom. I know it’s risky—considering what happened five years ago—but I can’t wait another second. I just want him, every inch, just us. The pill will have to be enough. With a slow inhale, I sink down onto him, the slick warmth of my body letting me take him all at once.

I rock against him, my hips moving instinctively, grinding down on his lap. The delicious stretch is all-consuming, and the feel of him buried deep is a sensation I’m becoming addicted to. I arch my back, leaning into the pleasure as his hands tighten on my waist, guiding my movements, controlling the rhythm.

“Fuck,” he groans. His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me down harder, faster, the need between us escalating.

I don’t care that we’re out in the open, the remnants of our dinner still spread across the table and his staff no doubt lingering in the shadows. Nothing matters except this. His touch is fire, and I’m burning alive for him.

His mouth finds mine again, the kiss deep and demanding. I moan into his lips, the pressure coiling tighter with every thrust. The steady slapping of our bodies coming together echoes in the night air. His hands slide up my thighs, brushing the garter straps, before one hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer. He slaps my ass hard as I bounce on his cock and the sting of pain is exhilarating.

But it’s not enough. I need more.

I pull back, my breath hitching. “I need… deeper,” I whisper, thick with desperation.

He doesn’t hesitate. With a grunt, James stands, lifting me effortlessly as I cling to him, our bodies still locked together. In one swift motion, he sweeps his arm across the table, knocking plates and glasses to the ground in a clatter. The sound is jarring, but I hardly register it, too focused on the clenching in my core.

He lays me down on the edge of the table; his eyes predatory, as he looms over me. With a rough thrust, he hits a spot that has me gasping for air.

“Oh, fuck,” I cry out, trembling.

His jaw clenches, his hands gripping my thighs as he pounds into me, each thrust more powerful than the last. The heat in my core intensifies until it’s almost unbearable. I dig my nails into his forearms, holding on as the tide breaks.

My body convulses, and for the first time in my life, a gush of liquid releases from within me. My eyes squeeze shut and I let out a strangled moan, my entire body shaking with the force of my orgasm.

The wetness between us is undeniable, soaking my panties and his jeans, but I don’t care. All I can think about is how good it feels—how goodhefeels, filling me, claiming me.

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