The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

Irritation at what she’d implied clamped my teeth together. “I did not find the last ten minutes wasteful, Sophia.”

Her brow furrowed in dismay. “I didn’t mean it like—”

The statement died as I sat back from her, peeled off my suit coat, and tossed it aside. I trapped her under my gaze as I went to work undoing my cufflinks, dropping them one by one to the floor with a quiet ping, each followed by a short skitter.

Then I set a foot on the floor and rose onto the knee of my other leg, halfway off the chaise lounge as I stripped off my shirt and discarded it. The way her gaze traced over my bare chest and down my arms caused pride to warm inside me. I’d done the best I could under the circumstances for the last two years and had hoped for admiration from her, but she gave me something far better in return.

She stared at me with unfiltered lust.

I savored it until her gaze settled on the silver watch on my wrist.

The clock is ticking, Macalister.

The firelight cast flickers of orange and yellow across her nude body, and I leaned over her, setting a hand beside her head for support. It left my other hand free to begin. My touch had an enormous effect on her, and I would use that to its fullest advantage tonight. I trailed my fingertips down the column of her neck and watched how her chest lifted in a deep breath.

Her lips parted when my palm smoothed over her shoulder and down her arm. I teased with my caress, sliding my hand over the flat expanse of her stomach, carving a path down her body as if I were brushing away all the others who’d tried and failed what I was going to accomplish tonight.

When I reached her knee and began to move back up, I appreciated the way her legs subtly parted for me, and I rewarded her action by brushing my thumb along the inside of her thigh. Up I went, sliding over her smooth skin, inching toward the slit between her legs. Her eyelids fluttered closed in anticipation.

I veered my hand away at the last moment, continuing its journey upward, and I enjoyed how her eyes burst open in surprise. She’d thought I’d slide my fingers over her clit or perhaps push two deep inside her, and while this was eventually my plan, it was the endgame. There were several moves I had yet to make.

Seduction was a multistep process and began with her mind. Once I had her turned on, I still had to prime her body. The more work and preparation I put in, the greater the reward would be. When she arched up off the cushion into my touch, it signaled she was ready for more. I tilted down and planted my lips against the pulse point on her neck just below her ear, sucking until her hands tightened their grip on my arms.

Sophia smelled like an orchard, sunny and fruity, and it lulled me to want to stay right where I was, nestled against her throat with my hand on her waist, but time was my opponent. I was confident in my abilities but would need to leave a few extra minutes in case she really did have difficulty achieving orgasm and it wasn’t just lazy, inept partners.

I loved a challenge, and this one had been tailor-made for me.

She moaned faintly when I skated my fingertips over her breast, teasing her nipple with a featherlight touch. Her arms were dotted with goosebumps, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as I closed my fingers on the bud, pinching and testing her response. I didn’t use much pressure, as I planned to do that with my mouth, but it was enough to bring her knees together, and a wicked smile spread across my lips.

She’d done that to squeeze against and prolong the pleasure my touch had given her.

“Spread your legs,” I ordered.

I inhaled sharply when she did it without hesitation. She didn’t have an inkling of how satisfying that was. I craved control, and her instant response to my dominance was a drug. I had to be careful not to become addicted.

Now that there was room for me, I shifted on the lounge and knelt between her parted legs, cupping both her breasts in my hands. They were soft and warm and full—likely the best I’d ever seen. If I’d had more time, I would have lavished them with attention, but tonight I had to be efficient and deliberate.

I bent down and closed my lips over a nipple, sucking her into my mouth.

This was the loudest moan I’d heard from her so far, and it shot straight to my groin. It was frustrating how physical desire was already reawakening in my body. I’d never been slow to recover, but for once, I didn’t want to. How could I trust myself not to take her to bed, when she constantly worked me up, and I hadn’t had sex in three agonizing years?