Seducing the Enemy - Forbidden Confessions

But the me now is more practical.

“Excellent. Take off your robe and hand it to me.” I hold my palm up between us.

She hesitates, seems to gather herself to unknot the belt around her small waist, then slides the robe off her shoulders.

I stop breathing as she exposes her naked body to me again. No, I didn’t imagine how sexy she looked by the pool, under the moonlight. Her breasts, like the rest of her body, have matured. They are definitely more than a handful now, topped with dusky nipples I can’t wait to slide my tongue across. She’s built like an hourglass with a small waist that’s exaggerated by the lingering shadows in the room. Her hips have widened. They’re not a girl’s now, but a woman’s. She’s got long, sleek thighs for someone so petite. But it’s her pussy I can’t stop staring at. Under the sparse dusting of downy, dark hair, it’s puffy and pink.

I know where I’m going to expend most of my effort and energy tonight.

Finally, she drops the robe onto my palm. I toss it on the back of the nearby chair, then sit.

“Come here, Whitney.” I point to the floor in front of me.

Wordlessly, she does. I’d think she was calm—except for the pulse beating wildly at her neck. When we’re sharing breath and space, she stops.

I nod my approval. “Kneel.”

She hesitates, then descends gracefully to her knees, looking up at me with big, beseeching eyes that threaten to turn me inside out.

I can’t let her.

Instead, I fist a handful of hair at her crown and jerk her head back before inching forward in my seat, leaving her no doubt I mean to kiss her, rob her thoughts, obliterate her resistance.

Make her beg.

God, how many fantasies have I had about that?

“Jett?” Her voice shakes.

She’s incredibly brave to put herself completely in the hands of a wealthy, powerful enemy for a week who has an unending hard-on and an ax to grind. I have to give her points for that. The question is, what am I going to do next? Punish her for the choice she made as a girl that ripped out my heart? Or forget revenge for one night and give in to every urge I’ve ever had to make her scream my name?

“Whitney.”

“What am I doing here? What are you hoping to gain?”

She’s always been insightful. Then again, she’s smart, poised, assured as only someone raised with money and surrounded by a family full of sharks can be.

“I want what you promised me eight years ago. But since I can’t have your virginity”—or your heart—“I’ll settle for my pound of flesh.”

Whitney opens her mouth to say something. I don’t want to hear it. I’m done talking.

To silence her, I grab her face with one hand, thumb and fingers pressing in just above her jaw with the right pressure to force her to open for me.

Her lips part. Her pink tongue perches on her upper lip as her eyes widen with uncertainty. My heart shudders. My skin is on fire. My cock aches.

God, everything about this woman turns me on.

It’s my last thought before I swoop down, seize her mouth, and force her lips even farther apart with my own.

The moment our kiss connects, I jerk. She’s like a jolt of pure electricity screaming fire through my body, especially when she stills against me…then suddenly softens with a little cry and throws her arms around my neck.

That’s all the green light I need.

I release her jaw, clutch my greedy fingers around her nape, and deepen the kiss by sliding my tongue against hers. Fuck, I can’t stop myself from inhaling her. She’s every bit as delectable as I remember—but more. She’s no longer cotton-candy sweet. Now, she’s a complex flavor, like a perfectly balanced dessert, some combination of sugary and salty that lingers and makes me crave more.

I fall into her. I lose myself in her. And even though she’s killing my good intentions and self-control, I let myself drown in her.

A groan slips free as I pull her up. She clambers onto my lap. I barely have to encourage her to get closer before she melts against me, angling her head to allow me even deeper into her hot, honeyed mouth.

I drop a palm to her hip and use it to drag her closer. With the corner of my brain still functioning, I realize she doesn’t kiss like a woman who’s been satisfied well and often by her fiancé. She kisses with the desperate hunger of someone lonely, who’s been craving touch. I can use that against her, to make her putty in my hands. But I can also use that to pleasure and sate her, to make her sigh with the kind of bliss she’s never known. I’ll make it my mission to be her fucking best.