Page 41 of Seeking Vengeance

“Throbbing.”

“Room service shouldn’t take long to bring a bucket of ice. And the concierge is arranging a cooling pack.”

“Thank you. But I shouldn’t need all that. The swelling will go down soon.” If it doesn’t, Cole is going to be on the warpath.

“I ordered a bottle of champagne, too.”

“NowthatI would accept with open arms.” I need to reclaim the confidence I had when he was standing in the doorway. I want the upper hand, not these flimsy, flaky responses.

His fingers move to my belly and I stiffen with the intimacy before I can stop myself. The low hum of his laughter only increases my tension. He’s so incredibly sure of himself. So deliciously confident.

“Relax, Layla.” He kisses my shoulder. “You’re safe.”

Safety isn’t my concern. What I fear is disappointing him. Our connection felt different when he was struggling for restraint at the door. Now he’s in his element, having already won this game of seduction, and I didn’t even leave the starting blocks.

“Easier said than done.” I struggle to loosen my muscles.

“Why?” His touch trails lower, along my abdomen, inching farther and farther toward the apex of my thighs, where I already feel his effects the most.

“You know exactly why.” I’m unsettled. It’s clear he has me tied in knots.

“How would I know? You’ve been successful in exposing very little about yourself.” He places another kiss to my neck, the kindness followed by a rough scrape of teeth. “Am I moving too fast? Too slow?”

I don’t know.

Nothing is certain anymore. There’s only sensation, and it’s taking me over like a drug.

“Maybe,” I croak.

“Maybe too fast?” His touch continues to descend, gliding over the slim patch of curls at my pubic bone. “Or maybe too slow?”

I suck in a ragged breath, my pussy clenching as his fingertips divert farther down along the path where leg meets crotch. I shake my head, unable to answer, no longer even sure of the question.

“Too fast or too slow, Layla?” he murmurs.

I whimper, the blanket of bubbles doing nothing to stop my mind from visualizing what’s happening below the surface. His strong hands consume my vision. The image of his lips on my skin makes me throb.

He adds pressure to my legs, parting them, exposing me beneath the water. “Want to know what I think?”

I breathe harder, clenching my eyes shut.

“I think your fragile little whimpers mean you’re hungry for more but don’t know how to ask for what you want,” he rumbles under his breath. “I think you’re throbbing, your body begging to be sated. I even think you might finally be realizing all the pleasure that could’ve been yours the first night we met if only you’d allowed it. How we could’ve been like this weeks ago.”

He continues to speak against my skin, punishing me with wave upon wave of goose bumps as his fingers continue to sweep back and forth along the apex of my inner thighs.

“And just think,amore mio—I’m barely getting started.”

I clench my molars. I’m going to moan. I feel the release build in my throat, determined to escape. There’s so much tension. Too much. My body craves. My heart pounds.

“Tell me you want more,” he teases against my neck.

“I want more.” I respond too quickly. So damn fast my answer should be humiliating. But the embarrassment will have to wait until the aftermath. Right now, craving is all I know. Hunger entirely consumes me.

His fingers continue to creep, swiping closer and closer to my core. “How much more?”

Everything.

The moan escapes, my head falling back to rest against his shoulder.

---