Page 44 of Whiskey Promises
"Clearly not," I huff. "You've been stalking me all over this property all week."
He grins again, slipping his hand beneath my shirt. I shiver at the feel of his fingertips against my abdomen. "You fucking loved every minute of it."
"Did not," I lie, leaning up to bite his lip.
He growls, his eyes turning dark. "Keep that up, and you won't make it to my bed before I'm inside you, Zoya."
"Maybe that's the point."
He groans softly, his hands flexing against my body.
"You want me? I'm right here, Jareth."
"I imagined you in my bed for the first time, princess."
"Where's the fun in that?" I taunt, intentionally brushing against his erection. "We've been sneaking around all over the property already. Why stop now?"
"Jesus," he growls, thrusting one hand into my hair to crane my head back. He leans down over me, his eyes glittering with lust. "Is that what you want? For me to pop your little cherry right here in this office?"
"Yes," I moan, unable to deny it. I don't care where we are. I just want him, with the same intensity that's been driving me mad for months already. I don't need a bed. I don't need flowers and candlelight. I'm quickly coming to realize that there is no such thing as perfect. Life is messy, and maybe love is, too. But maybe that's the way it should be. Maybe that's what makes it so damngood. It's messy. It's flawed. It's push and pull and give and take.
That's what Jareth and I are together. We're radioactive particles, crashing into one another to create something new—something powerful. It's intense and terrifying, but if we're brave enough, maybe it's strong enough to sustain us.
I want to find out.
It'll break me if we crash and burn, but I think it's breaking me not to take that chance, too. I lose my mind a little more every day because I want him so fucking badly. If ten days of messy beauty is all I get, I want it. Every damn second.
No more running. No more pretending.
Chapter Ten
Jareth
Iwalk Zoya backwardtoward the desk, my goddamn heart in my throat. Not breaking down her bedroom door the last few nights took every bit of restraint I have. Now that she's right here in front of me, looking up at me like I'm the only thing she sees, I have no self-control left. She tore it from me, strip by strip, leaving me wild. I haven't gotten a damn thing done in days because all I do is think about her.
Does she even know that she's completely obsessed me? Possessed me? Turned me inside out and upside down? She's so afraid this will end in disaster, that I'll break her, but that shit isn't happening. This isn't ending in ten days. It's not ending in ten years. I feel that truth resonating in my soul, the same way it has since I met her in Nadia's dressing room. This is permanent, unalterable.
I thrust out an arm, sweeping all of Trystan's shit from his desk. Stacks of paperwork, pens, and office supplies crash to the floor around us as I lift Zoya up, dropping her on top of my cousin's desk.
She shivers, her hazel eyes so dark with desire they're almost black.
I slip a hand beneath the hem of her shirt, my eyes locked with hers as I tug it upward, revealing acres of creamy skin. The shirt lands amidst the wreckage on the floor.
"Jesus," I groan, leaning back to look down at her.
She stares up at me, unblinking. Unashamed.
There's something so fucking sexy about her confidence and comfort in her own skin. She doesn't try to hide her curvy body from me. Sheknowsshe's beautiful.
"Get rid of the bra, princess," I rasp, palming my cock.
"Isn't that supposed to be your job?" she teases me.
"Next time. This time, I want to watch you bare yourself to me. Show me what you've been keeping from me."
She holds my gaze as she reaches behind her to unclasp the bra. Mischief dances in her eyes as the straps fall forward, the fabric caught between her body and her arm. She pulls it down slowly, tormenting me just because she can.
"Faster, Zoya."
