Jay gave me nothing.

But he also didn’t kick me out of his bed as I had expected him to. I surely wouldn’t be able to sleep with that silence. In this cavernous house, in the arms of this complicated man. With all of these thoughts swirling through my brain.

She found sleep easily.

Too easy.

She was not supposed to be here. In his arms. In his bed. It was dangerous for her. She should’ve had her guard up. He’d expected that of her.

She was headstrong, she was stubborn, she was smart. Stella had made sure to show him all of those things, and all the information he’d collected about her had proven that too. She’d lived in this city for long enough to know not to trust men. To protect herself. Yet she’d exposed herself to him, readily. She’d gone down on her knees for him. She’d offered information that he knew she didn’t divulge to just anyone. Information that she blanketed in a strong, detached tone while her eyes told him that she still bled from her past. She was broken from it. And for whatever reason, she had offered him pieces of her. Freely.

Though, not all the pieces. Not quite. Jay sensed she was holding back. He’d watched her purse her lips as if she was trying to trap words, preventing them from entering the air. But she’d told him enough. Too much.

Then she fell asleep in his fucking arms.

Like she trusted him enough to keep her safe, vulnerable as she was. It was stupid of her. He should’ve done something to show her, teach her that this was a mistake. Trusting him was a mistake.

Jay was excellent at correcting people’s mistakes, making sure that they would never make them again. He did it brutally, without mercy or conscience.

He hadn’t hesitated in teaching lessons to women who came before Stella. Women who thought that they were special, different, that they could push limits, that he would want to change for them.

Jay did not change for anyone. Especially not a woman.

But here was Stella, sleeping in his arms, in his bed, instead of the room three doors down that every woman who came before her had gone to the second he’d taken his dick out of them.

There was a closet full of clothes that fit Stella in that room. Not many yet, because he wanted to get to know her better, find out what he liked on her body. She wore black for him tonight.

That dress.

That fucking dress.

It had almost made him come undone. When she’d emerged from her apartment—which she hadn’t let him into—a full minute later than he’d instructed, wearing that dress. He’d almost charged out of the car and carried her over his fucking shoulder back into her apartment.

It had taken every ounce of willpower he had not to do that. Because he needed to punish her. He needed to make her desperate for him. As desperate as he was.

And because he needed to respect her wishes. Her space. It infuriated him that she’d created boundaries, was keeping parts of her from him while simultaneously giving him her most personal parts.

Jay was determined to have all of her. Whether he deserved her or not. Whether it ruined her or not.

She’d already ruined him. Because there was no way she was sleeping anywhere but his bed. In his arms. The shit in that closet was being moved tomorrow. He was taking out every single piece of black clothing in there.

Because she looked like pure fucking sin in black. In that fucking dress. And he didn’t need reminders of how he was damning her. The marks he was putting on her.

Not that he felt guilty enough to do anything about it. To stop this. To banish her from his life.

No, he wouldn’t do that.

Not yet.

Not until he’d had his fill of her.

CHAPTER NINE

The bed was empty when I woke.

But it was not the first time I’d woken.

Twice, Jay had roused me in the dark with his lips somewhere. With his hands somewhere. He wasn’t gentle, either time, didn’t wait for me to shake off sleep as he murmured orders to me. Where I could touch him. Where I couldn’t.

He liked my nails running down his hard abs. He liked it when I ran my fingers through his hair, clutching at the strands and yanking him so close that our foreheads touched, so his fractured breath kissed my skin.

He did not like my arms around him, and he did not like it when I fastened my hands around his neck. Nor did he like me trying to grab his wrists or hands. I learned quickly what the rules were, even in the middle of the night. I was sure there would be more, more parts of him that were forbidden. Many more.

Tags: Anne Malcom The Klutch Duet Erotic
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