Page 177 of Entangled

Eden

Survival tip #20

You have to be theworstbest version of yourself tosurvivelive.

KillProtect the weak.

Strike fromKiss in the shadows.

Run from aStand and fight.

Leave your friends behind.Protect your friends at all costs.

For a moment, I’m caught off guard. Physical distance, he meant.

Then slowly, I stand, hugging my workbook and notepad to my chest. On trembling legs, I walk over to him. My skin feels sensitive, hot, the fabric of my shirt scraping over it provocatively.

I stop in front of him, and despite the fact that I am standing and he’s sitting, he still seems to loom before me with the quiet confidence of an indolent king.

His eyes on mine, Jasper spreads his thighs wide.

I think I stop breathing.

My scandalized eyes drop helplessly.

I don’t know why that one shift to separate his legs should feel as indecent as his mouth around the wordcock. Perhaps because it feels like an invitation. A beckoning into some private, privileged alcove—one where very few may be allowed.

He watches me with those dark, dark eyes, and fiendish flames dance around us.

“Kneel.”

The word shudders through me like a prayer, a call for reverence.

Not taking my eyes off him, I lower myself to my knees. It’s a delicious space. His thighs are firm and hot beside me, sheathed in his black slacks. I’m utterly surrounded by him.

The tips of Jasper’s fingers tease the strands of hair at my temple until I look up at him. He’s so salaciously close, and yet from down here, he looks so far above me.

On instinct, I nestle into his fingers, and he strokes my temple with his thumb. Jasper looks down at my kneeling form—and looks and looks. His hand tightens painfully in my hair, and I don’t even have time to suck in a surprised breath before it smooths out reassuringly.

My heart trips a beat.

“You flower as a submissive, Eden.” Jasper’s eyes travel over my face, and he murmurs, “If you need to talk, I suspect this might be easiest for us both.”

In this nook, I can smell him, feel him. I’m conscious of every whisper of fabric, every shift, every breath. I’m aware of the fact that he truly isn’t unaffected by me right now.

I rest my head against his inner thigh, and he watches me curve into him. It’s so intimate, this place where only lovers usually dwell. It feels even more intimate, somehow,withoutthe flurry of movement. To just rest here, soaking in the feeling of his strength under my cheek.

Maybe he’s right. I do feel closer to him like this, in ways that have nothing to do with proximity.

Hesitantly, his finger tracks over my hairline. “I can’t approach you as a professional, Eden. I’m already too compromised, and you, too close. But if you need to talk, come to me like this—share your concerns with me as a dominant... and I will care for my submissive.”

His delicate touch sends shivers all over me. It seems a tenuous, uncomfortable line for him to walk, but here, I finally feel my tension starting to fall away.

“Your submissive?” I meet his gaze. It lingers.

Jasper hesitates, then says in a cautious tone, “Not all dominant-submissive relationships are sexual, Eden. Perhaps we can try this.”

My eyes slip toward his erection, standing in not-at-all subtle defiance of his words. It’s a breathless, tense kind of look. I’m attracted to Jasper—almost violently so—and he’s clearly not unmoved by me.

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