Page 47 of Inevitable
He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling a deep, shaky breath. “We—”
“Can,” I said, already anticipating his protest. “We can, and we should. Now—” I leaned up on my toes, pressing my lips to his jaw “—I’m going to shower.” I spun and sauntered toward the bathroom, adding a little extra sway to my naked hips. It was an open invitation, and I hoped he’d take me up on it.
I started the water and wondered if I’d pushed him too far, asked for too much. We’d been buzzed when we’d fallen into bed together last night—on a high after closing another big deal, which was celebrated with drinks. Despite the alcohol coursing through our veins, we’d been sober enough to know what we were doing. But now in the harsh morning light, things were different—at least for him. And I hated the idea that he regretted it, regrettedme.
I reached out to steady myself. I could never regret our night together, even if he currently wanted to pretend it had never happened. I dropped my head to my chest, disappointment washing over me.
But then a pair of warm arms slipped around me, his scent invading my nose. I sighed, closing my eyes as I leaned into his touch. As much as he tried to deny it, he was just as desperate for me as I was for him.
“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” I teased, smirking at him over my shoulder.
He growled, pulling me closer. His hard-on sought me out through his slacks, the buttons of his shirt digging into my spine. I welcomed it, welcomed the bite of pain. Because I wanted to etch this week into my memory, tattoo it on my brain the way this man was imprinted on my heart.
“Resist you? When I’m done, you’ll be begging me to fuck you.” He whispered the dark promise into my ear, and I shivered.
As steam billowed out of the shower, he ran his hand over my breasts, my hips, my thighs. I leaned my head back against his shoulder, my thoughts as clouded as the bathroom mirror. I wanted him. I’d wanted him for so long. But his touch was rough, as if he were angry with himself for wanting me.
“Get in,” he rasped.
He released me, and I stumbled forward, into the huge walk-in shower. It was tiled in marble with multiple shower heads—decadent and opulent just like my night with this man had been. But like the shower, Jonathan could be cold, hard.
I pushed those thoughts away, stepping beneath the spray of water so it blanketed me with warmth. My body was on high alert, the droplets running down my skin nearly erotic. I watched as he stripped out of his shirt, soaking in every inch of him as if it were the last time. Because I knew it very well could be.
He was… God, he was so handsome. In my mind, he’d always been the most handsome man I knew. Whether I’d realized it or not, I compared every guy to him. How could I not? Jonathan was intelligent, confident, successful. And now, this summer, I’d gotten to know him as a man. We’d shared things with each other, things I’d never shared with anyone else.
Jonathan swept his hair away from his face, silver smattering the temples and throughout his beard. Did he even realize how crazy he made me? Did I have anywhere near the same effect on him?
I ran my hands down my chest, over my stomach, and he watched, Adam’s apple bobbing. He stripped out of his button-down shirt, his blue eyes hooded with desire. They mirrored my own. His pants were next, his cock bobbing toward his stomach. My mouth watered at the sight.
No sooner had he stepped into the shower than he smashed his mouth to mine, his kiss insistent, demanding. I met him stroke for stroke, his beard scratching my skin. His body firm against mine as he crushed me to him. I couldn’t breathe unless he did. Couldn’t move unless he wanted me to. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
He dipped his head to suck on my nipple, teasing my clit with his fingers. I reached out for him, taking him in my hand, stroking him. Water streamed down my face, and I tilted my head back and opened my mouth, letting the water fall over my lips, my skin, his skin. It made it seem as if he were everywhere, and it certainly felt that way as he pushed me higher and higher. With every nip of his teeth, every swipe of his fingers, I was that much closer to coming.
He slid one finger inside me, then another, and I grasped his shaft tighter, pumping him faster. Panting. Groaning. Punishing.
He met my eyes, his dark with lust and anger. I craved it, wanted it all. And when he gripped the back of my neck, groaning my name before slamming his mouth against mine, I came. He followed a minute later, painting my stomach with his desire.
* * *
After a dayof meetings that seemed to stretch on endlessly, I climbed into the back of the town car. We’d barely pulled away from the curb, and Jonathan’s attention was already glued to his phone screen as if his life depended on it. It had been like this most of the day—he did his best to stay busy, to put distance between us. I’d hoped things would be different once we were alone again, but it looked like I was wrong.
I turned toward the window, glancing at the passing scenery. Not a palm tree in sight. As far away from LA and my dad as we could get without leaving the country. And it still wasn’t enough. At least, not for him. For me… Well. I pursed my lips, watching a street performer as we waited for a light to change. I hated the idea of hurting my dad. I’d never want to drive a wedge between him and Jonathan. They’d been friends since high school. Over the years, Jonathan had been an ever-present fixture in our family. But this summer had changed everything.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, startling me from my thoughts.
I lifted a shoulder. I wasn’t going to push him if he was freaking out like I thought he was. Maybe some space would be good for both of us. “Not really. I might grab something near the hotel.”
“Nonsense. I made reservations at La Mer.”
“Are we meeting a client?”
“No.”
I studied his expression to determine his intent, but it was useless. I wanted him to do something, say something,anythingto acknowledge what had happened between us. But he was silent the rest of the ride, and so was I.
When we arrived at La Mer, Jonathan exited first, waiting for me to emerge. He placed his hand on my lower back, his touch sending sparks up my spine. Inside the restaurant, the host greeted us with a smile and then led us to a table in a secluded corner.
Jonathan held out my chair. When he rested his thigh against mine beneath the table, I wondered if it was intentional. But then I remembered how cold and aloof he’d been all day. And told myself it was likely just an accident.
