Page 28 of Enemies with Benefits

Slowly, I raised my head. ‘Wren.’

She ignored me, nibbling on my jaw before sinking her white teeth into my throat. I jerked back before I lost complete control.

‘Wren. Stop.’

CHAPTER FIVE

I’VEALWAYSHATEDmy name, ever since Perry let slip when I was nine that my father had given it to me as a cruel joke. George Bingham had possessed a rather dark sense of humour. Humour he’d often directed towards me in the rare times I was allowed in his vicinity.

He’d chosen a name with no softness to it, apparently, because he didn’t want a soft child. Particularly, he hadn’t wanted a daughter. So in his bitter humour and disappointment, he’d named me Wren. Nondescript. Forgettable. All hard angles and far too close towrenchfor my liking. At school I’d been teased about it.Wren the Wraithbecause of my thinness, my paleness and my height. Coupled with the oppressive cloaks we’d been required to wear at my equally oppressive Hampshire boarding school, the name had fitted all too well.

But now, hearing it groaned from the depths of Jasper’s arousal, it sounded...different. Not ordinary. Definitely lusty. Erotic and potent. A name uttered as if he couldn’t help himself. As if he had to say it...or die.

Even as I dismissed my thoughts as a stupid flight of fancy, I leaned into him, silently pleading for him to groan it again, to fan the flames of my own arousal to that mindless place he’d taken me that chilly evening in my family’s maze.

No, not back to that place.

I wanted a new place. One I could claim wholly for myself, without the spectre of my judgemental family looming over me.

As much as I hadn’t wanted to let him into my personal space, now that I had him here, it wasn’t so bad. My sofa would be a good starting point. Maybe eventually my bed...if we could drag ourselves there—

Except...he was already pulling away.

Far too quickly, painful reality rushed back in. Dear God, I was literally cavorting with the enemy. And even worse, he was about to leave me hanging moments away from another mind-shambling orgasm. Dazed and more than a little confused, I glanced down at myself, sprawled out with my breasts on display and my shorts pulled up tight enough to frame my crotch, highlighting the need coursing through me.

Somehow my fingers were caught in his and even though he’d rejected me, he still held on to me. Which made my exposed state even more humiliating.

I yanked myself out of his hold, face flaming as I pulled up the straps of my top until my shamefully erect nipples were covered. Jasper was still wedged between my thighs and despite his withdrawal, the outline of his erection pressed behind his fly. The sight of it reminded me of what I’d been grinding up against moments ago. His glorious thickness, the very masculine way he rolled his hips. The promise of how he would feel deep inside me...

Hunger and frustration threatened to overshadow my humiliation. But the very thought that I was considering, even for a millisecond, talking him into finishing what he’d started forced me to locate my elusive outrage.

‘Can you get off me, please?’

His lips firmed. ‘Wren, we need to—’

‘Now, please,’ I interjected, infusing my voice with necessary ice.

For several seconds, his hazel eyes narrowed, eyes that seemed to see beneath my skin, examining me intently before, thankfully, he rose from the sofa.

He crossed to the window and stared out onto the street. Whether to give me time to compose myself or because he needed a minute himself, I didn’t question as I jumped up. I yanked my passion-tousled hair out of the band securing it, letting the strands fall around my shoulders and partly obscure my face in the vain hope of a shield. I contemplated going to retrieve my dressing gown out of my room and decided against the revealing move. The last thing I wanted was to lose further ground to Jasper Mortimer.

I sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he turned to face me. His stark hunger was throttled back and the eyes that stared at me held only iron resolution.

‘Believe it or not, that wasn’t how I wanted this to go,’ he rasped.

Something fairly substantial lurched with disappointment inside me. ‘And by this you mean what exactly? Storming into my flat or that half-baked seduction on my sofa?’

For some reason, my snippiness amused him. I hated myself a little for liking his smile. ‘I didn’t storm in and I may have stopped short of the full five minutes but there was nothing half-baked about it, sweetheart.’

Again, something lurched. It was thesweetheartI’d outwardly objected to but secretly didn’t...hate. While I wasn’t about to examine why, I knew it had something to do with the lack of softness and warmth in my life, both in childhood and now. And yes, I feared for my own gullibility at being taken in by a common term of endearment.

I crossed my arms over my chest, stingingly aware my erogenous zones were still on fire and one particular area was announcing it to the world.

‘Whatever. You’re going to use those extra minutes to leave, aren’t you?’ I said, striving for boredom.

This time his whole face hardened. ‘Not until we’ve cleared up a few important things.’

‘And what would those be?’

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