Page 14 of Clause & Effect
“And you’re surprised because…” I ask in disbelief. “We don’t even know each other, and this already feelscharged.”
Hisverycharged blue gaze zeroes in on my lips.
“Because it is.” He states.
Shit. My lip’s part. Like a breathless kind of parting…. and wanting him to try me.
He notices. And the fire his body radiates matches my own.
“I thought we’d skip the usual bullshit and get straight to the point.”
I wait for him to continue.
“You want me.” The words drip with temptation, they linger in the air between us.
I lose the ability to stand on my own. I have to lean against the tall cocktail table. And the next words he says steals all functioning ability in my body. Breathing, being the primary concern.
“And I want to be inside of you.”
Holy. Shit.
This is the single hottest thing a man has ever said to me.
The only thing I’m capable of doing is staring right back at him. Words, which usually come so easily to me, have failed me.
“Naughty, I know,” his gaze becomes even more hooded and there’s a way he’s staring at me, like he already knows what I taste like. Which Lord, I want him to.
Bad.
“You’re shy. I like that,” he fills in the silence. “But very soon you won’t be with me. I won’t allow it. I plan on getting to know every single part of you. From taste, to sensory reaction, and pleasure points, of course.”
He says it like it’s the most normal conversation in the world between two perfect strangers. Never mind the magnetism we both feel, we still know nothing about each other.
“What are you saying?” The words stumble out. I know what he’s saying, I knowexactlywhat he’s saying but his words are doing so many things to my insides that this is all I can manage. It’s almost a plea for him to stop.
My words… my tone, whatever it is turns him on even more. He goes from the predator methodically waiting in the corner for its way in—to the predator who’s about to pounce.
“I’ll give you twenty-four hours,” his tone radiates pure alpha power sending a shock of pleasure through me. A cataclysmic wave that makes no sense or shouldn’t make any sense and yet here I am. Merry Christmas?
“I’m—I’m not following…” I stutter out.
“To sign the clause. This time tomorrow night you’ll be on my yacht for a sleepover.”
“Are you mad?” I gasp in outrage, borrowing one of Grace’s new favorite sayings though when she says it, she almost always adds a British tilt to it.
He smiles in anticipation.
“I’ll send over transportation.”
My mouth drops. Oh, he’s serious.
Why is it so hot? The command itself? The way he just says it like I have no choice? Maybe that’s been the problem all along—me arguing sense into myself and the world around me—maybe what I’ve needed all along is this. Him.
“I’m not climbing on your boat tomorrow night!” I try to sound indignant, but honestly the thought is not a bad one.
It’s the best idea I’ve ever heard in my life.
“No, you will walk on my boat,” his grin is devilish. “And after dinner, or maybe during, you’ll slide into my bed.”
