Page 45 of Miss Understood

Her eyes flutter as she presses against my erection.

I dip my head and breathe in the thick floral scent of her perfume as I graze my nose along the line of her neck.

“I want to fuck you every way imaginable,” I tell her, dragging my teeth along her earlobe and appreciating how it makes her melt against me.

“I want that too,” she says, and there’s a need in her voice that I don’t miss.

“But”—I lick a trail back down her neck—“You need to understand that even if I plan on discovering every inch of your tight body, it doesn’t change anything.”

“I understand,” she breathes. “This is just sex for me too.”

“Just sex?” I laugh under my breath and tip her chin up to meet my stare. “You’ve been fucking the wrong guys, baby. I’m going to consume you.”

Her pupils dilate, and her chest rises with a sharp inhale.

“I’m not going to fall for you,” she says.

I’m not sure if she says it for my sake or hers, but I hope she means it. Because as worried as I am about her changing her mind on this, I can’t seem to trust myself around her either.

This past week I’ve been losing my head around Luce. I look forward to crossing paths with her at the office. I can’t help but check in when we don’t have any scheduled meetings. I appreciate how seamlessly she fits in my apartment. And with her body pressed against mine, this churning need is almost unbearable. Reminding me that if there’s ever been a time to keep something purely physical, it’s with my wife.

This can’t become anything more.

“You’re gorgeous, Luce,” I tell her. “But I’m not going to fall for you either.”

A wicked smile plays on her lips, and she lifts onto her toes to try and find my mouth, but I stop her.

“One more thing,” I say, pressing her warm body against my chest and dipping my mouth to her ear. “I might enjoy our power struggle in the courtroom, but that’s not happening in there.” I tip my head toward the bedroom. “In that room you’re mine and I’m in control.”

My lips drag along her jaw before I claim her mouth with my own to make the point, driving my tongue into her mouth for her taking. Our breaths tangle between inhales and kisses and exhales. Her hips sway against me, and I break away, my hands once again pinning hers behind her back.

I may not need love, or a relationship, or even companionship in order to have sex. But I do need control, especially with Luce. I can’t deny my overwhelming urge to claim her body. And if I’m not careful, there’s a real chance I’ll lose myself in that desire.

“Say it,” I tell her, and her eyes squint with hesitation. I hold her tighter against my throbbing cock, and it forces the air from her chest. “I don’t play games when it comes to sex. So I need to hear you say it.”

This might be a deal-breaker. Luce doesn’t hand over control to anyone, especially me. She’s strategic in keeping the cards in her hands. A pro at being guarded. I’ve heard her make comments over the years about not bowing down to a man, even in the bedroom. But right now, all it makes me want to do is rip down her fucking walls one brick at a time.

Her lips part with the escape of a breath. “In there, I’m yours,” she says, and it’s all I need to drag her into my bedroom, roughly.

If she wants to feel something, I’ll give it to her. If my dick is what she wants to use, I’ll hand over my body for her pleasure. She wants to fuck, same as me. And of all the things she could have asked me for, that I can give.

My room is large and lit only by the flickering lights of the city outside the window. I stop at the foot of the bed and release her hands, stepping back and sinking into the couch that sits on the wall across from it. I tug at my tie to loosen it while Luce stands like a goddess in front of me.

“Strip,” I tell her, palming my cock through my pants. She watches my hand rub from my dick down my thigh, and she drags her bottom lip between her teeth.

For a moment, I think she’ll resist. That the woman who’s incapable of giving me an inch might argue and run her smart mouth. And, fuck, I’m so hypnotized by her body and her scent that I just might let her. But the smallest smile plays at the corner of her lips at my command, and her hands reach behind her instead, tugging the zipper of her dress all the way down until it slips off her silky body and puddles at her feet. She’s standing there wearing nothing but a lacy white strapless bra and cherry-red pumps—not a scrap of underwear. When she steps out of the dress, a faint glisten between her thighs makes me groan.

She’s already wet.

Jesus.

Fuck.

Her hands unhook the bra, and it tumbles away. Those perfect pink peaks beg for my teeth to lock onto them. She lifts a foot, but I hold up my hand.

“Leave the heels,” I tell her.

Luce pauses, and I take her in. The goddess who keeps my head spinning at night stands before me stripped naked. A woman who no doubt brings men to their fucking knees in the bedroom. And I need to claim her, take her, destroy her for all others.

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