Page 33 of Claiming Genevieve

Ifeelher gasp as my lips crush against hers. I rise up halfway out of my seat, sliding my hand around her waist and pulling her out of her chair and into my lap sideways, her body against my chest as I deepen the kiss. I’m hit with a rush of sensation all at once—her plush, warm mouth against mine, the bite of champagne on her tongue, the scent of her so close, the weight of her in my lap, against my cock, feathers from her dress tickling my throat as her lips part under mine in shock.

I take full advantage. I reach up, winding one hand in her hair as I slant my mouth over hers, our tongues tangling together as I devour her the way I’ve been imagining since the night we met. It’s everything I’ve fantasized about—from the softness of her mouth to the taste of her on my tongue, and I want more. I want everything.

I wanther.

Genevieve squirms deliciously against my cock, her ass pressing down against the hard ridge, and I hear her gasp again as she pulls back. I let her break the kiss, my hand still in her hair as I look at her.

She looks beautiful. Her eyes are glossy, her lips reddened, her chest rising quickly with sharp, panting breaths that tell me she’s more aroused than she wants to let on. She stares at me, and I don’t wait for the moment to pass.

“I think I can make the extra time worth your while,taibhseach,” I murmur huskily.

Genevieve licks her lips, and I feel the tremor that runs through her. “Let me up,” she whispers, and when I don’t let go of her immediately, she narrows her eyes at me. “Let meup. I can’t think with your?—”

“While you’re sitting on my massive cock?” I suggest, raising my hips slightly so that she can feel it pressing into her, and her cheeks flush pink.

“You’re overestimating yourself,” she says primly, pulling back again, and I chuckle, a smirk curving my lips.

“I assure you, lass, I’m not. I’ll show you if you like. You can examine the goods before you agree not to back out. Up close, if you like?—”

“Rowan.” Genevieve hisses my name, and I finally let her go, allowing her to push herself off my lap and back into her seat. My cock strains against my zipper, protesting the loss of her weight against my aching erection.

She presses her fingers to her eyes, letting out a breath before reopening them and looking at me. “I’ve always been careful with my birth control,” she says slowly. “And I always thought that if I did have an accident, if it failed—I knew I wouldn’t go through with the pregnancy. As a ballerina—that’s a career-ender. I had a plan in place, no matter what. So I suppose—” She breathes in and out again, slowly. “I never planned to keep a baby. So this isn’t all that different in the end, right? No different than giving up a child for adoption.”

She sounds almost as if she’s convincing herself. If I were thinking straight—if I were a better man—I’d tell her that we should break things off. That it’s clear that she’s not prepared for this. That I’ll be fine, even without my inheritance.

But I’m not that good of a man. And the truth is, I’m not thinking about my inheritance at all right now.

All I’m thinking about is how much I wanther.

“These are my terms,” she says finally, looking up at me. “We’ll go through with the marriage. If I’m able to get pregnant, I will.But,” she adds, before I can reach for her and kiss her again—with the full intent to start trying now, “We willonlyhave sex on the days when it has a chance to get me pregnant.”

I blink at her. “Isn’t that any day that it’s not your time of the month, lass?”

She chuckles drily. “A man would say that. No. I’ll schedule a doctor’s appointment before our wedding and start tracking my cycle. On my fertile days, I’ll come to your bed. If it’s not one of those days, we don’t touch each other.” She pauses. “And we do what it takes to make a baby. Nothing else. Am I clear?”

A throb of protest ripples through me, my mouth dry at the thought of never dipping my tongue between her thighs, never feeling her lips around my cock. But the alternative she’s proposing is to end this altogether—to never have her at all. It’s a choice I wasn’t prepared to make, and I struggle to think clearly as I look at the stubborn expression on her face.

“That’s a bit severe, don’t you think?” I manage. “It doesn’t all have to be clinical?—”

“Thatchanged things.” She points at the contract. “I was prepared to give you a week, Rowan, maybe two. Anything you wanted. But that obliges me to fuck you until I get pregnant with your child. To carry and give birth to that child.Thatis a job. An obligation. So I will treat it the same way I’ve treated every other goal in my life.” She takes a deep breath. “I’ll give you what you need—but on my terms. Andthoseare my terms.”

I stare at her. I’ve never had a woman speak so coldly to me about sex. I’d have thought it would have turned me off completely, but I’m as hard as ever—my cock clearly only focused on the part where I’ll get to be inside of her, get tocomeinside of her, and not on all the things we’ll be missing out on.

But to miss out on her entirely…

And to lose my inheritance too, in the bargain. Everything at once, in one fell swoop.

At least this way, I get something.

“What will you do after I leave?” Genevieve asks curiously. “If we do this? About the child? Are you going to marry again, or?—”

I search her words for a hint of jealousy, but if it’s there, she’s hiding it well. “I’ll hire a nanny,” I manage thickly, clearing my throat. “I was practically raised by one, and I turned out well enough.”

Genevieve raises an eyebrow, but she doesn’t refute it. “So?” she asks, and that one word has so much weight that I struggle to reconcile it.

But I can’t let her walk away. Not now. Not when I can still taste her on my lips from the kiss a moment ago.

She’s driving me insane with desire. And some nights with her, I reason, are better than none. Better than her walking away entirely.

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