Her mouth watered, it wasn’t the only part of her to dampen.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” he said roughly. “If you like I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
Oh my.
Min stayed locked in place on the bed even as she heard the shower running. She closed her eyes, but her imagination kept feeding samples of what he might look like right now—wet and gleaming. And she was going to make him beg?
The guy had slept with some of the world’s most beautiful women. She couldn’t compete with them on the body front. Or with the bedroom confidence of those two porn babes. And his control was outrageous. He might think Connor was the steely one, but he had unbreakable willpower. All week he’d been holding back, and she knew just how hard his cock had been.
Oh yeah, way too late she realized the emptiness of her challenge. How the hell was she going to push him beyond his limits?
Chapter Eighteen
#PartyPrep
To Logan’s intense disappointment Min didn’t join him in the shower. When he went back into the bedroom she was zipped up to the neck in the ugly gray onesie, determinedly focused on the iPad. She slid down the bed and switched out the light on her side a mere half hour later. Clearly she was still in planning mode.
But he wasn’t. He was ready for action.
Only he understood the power of anticipation. The power of an unexpected strike. So he’d wait just that little bit longer.
He barely slept again, woke early, over the waiting. He was gonna make her beg. Right now.
“Wake up, babe.” He rubbed her back.
She stirred and rolled towards him. Yep, that’s what he wanted. Her closer to him. Now he just had to work on naked.
“What are you doing?” she asked drowsily.
“Waking you up. We have a big day ahead.” And actually, he reckoned it wasn’t going to be anywhere near as bad as he’d feared. Not now he had Min to entertain. He’d tease her now, take her now. Again, again and again. Then he’d take her to the pool, let her do the spa and pamper thing to recover. Then he’d flirt with her at the party before bringing her back here as soon as possible to have her all over again.
Bringing her with him to Summerhill had been the best idea of his life.
She opened her eyes, the green glittered.
Yeah.
He tossed off the sheet, knelt, shifting to lean over her. She said nothing with her mouth, but said everything with a mere lift of her eyebrows. He laughed and reached forward. Carefully he unzipped her onesie, kissing down every inch of skin he slowly exposed.
Rousing her was the most fun he’d had in his life.
She arched up as he got rid of the onesie entirely. So beautiful. Naked and in the middle of his bed. His to pleasure.
But she twisted beneath him, suddenly her hands came into play. He froze, leaning above her. He’d no idea how just how good it would feel to have her touch his bare skin. She took advantage of his hesitation—his savoring of the moment—to shimmy up the bed. She rose and kissed his chest, skimming her hands over him at the same time. Light kisses, light touches. Then he felt her tongue.
Fuck. It felt so good. He wanted more. Wanted harder. Wanted her to keep touching him just the way she was. Her mouth on him like that? Her hands? He wanted everything all at once.
But he wanted her to come first.
He gripped her waist and tugged her back down the bed again. Kissing her, licking her, loving her body. But she kept touching him and it was too much. Too good. Too tempting.
Firmly he gripped her hands, pushing them into the mattress at her sides, almost fully getting off on the satisfaction of dominating her. Oh yeah, he had it bad. He opened his mouth and breathed her in. Pressing his lips and tongue against her hot, sweet-scented, wet flesh. Celebrating, proud, as he felt her muscles quiver uncontrollably. He licked, sucked, kissed, couldn’t get enough. Needing to make her wetter, make her swollen and over sensitive, red and glistening. Even when she was rocking her hips in a rapid, rough, rhythm, he couldn’t get enough. Even when she shook, when satisfaction seeped from her sex. It was a nectar sent to inebriate him. Make him weak. Make him want.
Every. Fucking. Thing.
He reared up, couldn’t resist settling over her for just a moment. His hips flexed a few times. Mimicking his ultimate possession.
Almost.
He strained, his body shaking, his soul tortured as silently she came again beneath him. Her head thrashed from side to side, her eyes shutting as the sensations overwhelmed her. So beautiful.
Only his boxers were between them, and even through that cotton he could feel her saturated heat. He released her hands. But immediately she reached for his butt, tried to slide her hand round to his—
He pulled his hips back out of reach. “No.”
She frowned at him. “But—”
“You are not touching me there.” He’d come in a heartbeat. He grabbed her hands again and braced.
Her frown deepened. “That’s not fair. How am I supposed to make you b-b-beg if I can’t touch you?”
“Not my problem.” He drew in a deep breath but his chest was super tight. “You’re the one who came up with the stupid rules,” he said. “Why don’t you just beg for me? I promise I won’t gloat.”
She tried to glower up at him, but given she had a pink orgasmic flush on, it probably wasn’t as severe as she was hoping.
“I’m going to m-m-make you b-b-beg,” she said. “I swear I am.”
He smiled. “I’m going to love your attempts.” Just as he was loving this—the feel of her beneath him? Warm and soft and welcoming. Yet such a challenge.
The expression in her eyes changed. “I just want to see you come. I want to see you satisfied.” It was her whisper-speak, so soft he hardly heard her.
His heart lurched. That wasn’t game talk, that was genuine. So sweet. His balls were so tight. “And you will. When I’m inside you.”
“You could be inside my mouth right now.”
His cock lurched.
It would be so easy to adjust his boxers just that little bit. To give in. To take.
But he wanted her to give herself to him. Fully to him. And he couldn’t figure the way to release her from that final restraint, that part of herself that she held back.
He wasn’t giving in until he had.
Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was that stupid competitive spirit he’d been cursed with since birth. Maybe it was something else altogether.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said hoarsely, peeling himself away from her.
This time he bolted the bathroom door.
When he went back into the bedroom—no less tense—Min was on the phone. He hesitated, didn’t want to listen in. But at the same time?
He so did.
“Thank you but I’m sorry, I can’t take on new clients right now,” she was speaking slowly. “I appreciate you thinking of me. Do stay in touch.”
They were perfectly executed words. He
was becoming increasingly aware of certain words and phrases that she used and the way she delivered them. That she’d probably practiced. It was how she coped. But he didn’t like hearing her turning down work.
Guilt pressed in on him. The whole fiancée charade had been a spur of the moment thing. Reckless. Rebellious. Restless.
He’d thought of it on a whim, it had appealed. Only now did he really begin to appreciate the long-term implications. It was alright for him, he had money. He’d grown up with a trust fund cushion, then gone on to make his own money. And even though he’d had his reckless moments, he still had more money than he’d started with. More than he’d ever need. Min didn’t. Min lived in a mouse hole of an apartment in a crappy part of town.
“I should pay you more for your time,” he said as soon as she’d ended the call.
“P-p-pardon?”
“I’m taking up a lot of your time.” He pulled his jeans on. “I should pay you for it.”
“That is not what I wanted to hear this minute,” she turned on him. “All of a sudden you’re wanting to p-p-pay me—for what?”
Too late he realized what she was getting at. Shit. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Really?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared him out.
“I just heard you refusing work.” He lifted his hands. “You should be taking on projects at this stage of your company’s development. You would be taking on if you weren’t locked away for the week.”
She paused. “You’re offering me money because you thought I was missing out on b-b-business?”
“No other reason.”
“Not g-guilt?” She sauntered up to him. “You don’t feel that you’ve treated me badly?”
Uh. Hmm. “I think I’ve treated you exceptionally well,” he countered, leaning in to mimic her whisper. “And you know it.”
She shook her head and stepped back. “Stop worrying. That guy wouldn’t have offered me the work if it weren’t for my c-c-connection to you.”
“You might as well take advantage of it though, right? Get something out of this.”
“Well I’m not taking your money.” She turned towards the bathroom. “Not for anything.”