Cruel Beloved

“You’re playing a game. But, rich girl…” his eyes look up to me, heat is evident in them, “… I play better.”

Taking the towel from his hand, I step up to him, naked and wet. My body almost brushing his. Whiskey’s eyes don’t drop. I expect them to. Maybe he’s better at this game than I thought.

“Are you sure about that?” Whiskey-colored eyes search mine, and then his straight and beautiful white teeth drag over those lips that are begging to be kissed. His warm hand comes to my bare hip, leaving a burning mark in its wake.

His head drops to the side. Is he thinking about my question? Then he drags his teeth again over his bottom lip, and I can’t look away. He knows it. His hand squeezes my hip and slides a fraction farther down, so he’s almost on my ass. Almost. I can feel my body heating and reacting just from his simple touch.

“Are you, rich girl?” he questions.

“We will see, I guess.” Pressing myself to him, I lean up so I’m close to his ear, and my breasts are pressed against his chest. “I like to play games. Who better to play them with than my future husband?”

Wrapping the towel around myself, I walk out, shutting the door behind me. The last thing I need is a reminder of how good that man looks naked.

I already know and it’s painful. But in a very good way.

“I know you aren’t sleeping.” Whiskey’s beside me now, has been for a good thirty minutes. I rolled to my side when he left, not wanting to look at him and see him naked. It scares me that he may win whatever this game is we’re playing at.

“You don’t.” I hear him laugh softly next to me.

“You aren’t snoring.” Turning over, I face him, which is a big mistake because he’s already looking at me. “I want to kiss you right now.”

“That’s good,” is all I reply.

“You don’t want me to kiss you?” he asks, locking eyes with me.

I’m afraid to blink—will he see my lie if I do?

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Pity. I could have made it worth your while.”

“How?” I ask him.

“How about a month off your contract if you can kiss me like you mean it.”

A month?

A whole month.

Holy shit! Awesome.

Free earlier than I thought would be better than the original contract stated.

“Just a kiss?”

“Just a kiss,” he tells me back.

Before I can move to him, his hand touches my lips.

“Make me believe it, rich girl.”

I roll my eyes at his words and lock my lips to his.

At first, he doesn’t move, and I reach for his wet hair, putting my hands on it and moving until he opens his mouth to give me access. When I slide my tongue in, I taste the mint of his toothpaste. His lips smash against mine, and soon we’re kissing with sexual tension floating between us so heavy I’m afraid this is just a taste of what’s to come. Eleven months will be a long time if we keep this up.

Pulling back, I remove my hand from his hair and look at him. His eyes are closed, and when he opens them, I wait. Wait for what? To see if I can kiss well? Or, to see if he’s not a liar?

“That wasn’t your best kiss. You didn’t make me believe it, rich girl.”

My eyes narrow at his words. “I kissed you. Now you take a month off.”

The asshole shakes his head. “No can do! You can have one more chance, though. But this time…” he leans in close, his lips redder from our kiss, “… make me believe it.”

Make him believe it? Maybe I should punch him in the junk and make him believe that.

Okay, taking a deep breath, I think of how to kiss this man so good that he will take a month off this stupid contract. The sooner I am out of here, the better. As I sit up, I tell myself I’m doing this for one reason only, that this man doesn’t make me weak at the knees and causes butterflies to flutter around in my stomach.

No, he makes me sick with the twisted games he likes to play.

Maybe he will be better at this than me.

Whiskey stays where he is, lying in bed on the other side of the fort I’ve created. Pushing the pillows away, I climb over to his side so I am straddling his lap and looking down at him. His chest is there for me to see, and my hands automatically touch it. You know, to make the kiss as good as it can be, and for no other reason, so I tell myself. Then I run my hands up to his neck leaning down.

Soft kisses are where I start, from his jawline to his lips. His hand comes up behind me and touches the small of my back as I stay on him, then I reach up, threading my fingers this time through his hair and pulling it, so when I kiss him, he kisses me back.