One of Fenton’s t-shirts drapes my body as I come out of the master ensuite. Unlike last night, I’m not self-conscious or at all unsure about what to do. Maybe it’s that we finally had sex or maybe it’s that Fenton had to leave again as soon as we finished earlier and I got to spend some time soaking everything in.
He makes me smile. I feel desired and protected and considered. I know he’d never hurt me; I see it in his eyes. He’s kind and compassionate, and I’ve enjoyed the start to our little getaway. I’ve enjoyed him.
When I come around the corner to the living room, I stutter-step. He’s standing in the middle of the room, typing away on his phone.
“I didn’t know you were back,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
“Just got here,” he says. He finishes whatever he’s doing and shuts his phone down before looking at me. “Did you just take a bath?”
“Mm-hmm,” I breathe, “And it was fantastic. But it would’ve been better if you were in it with me.”
“We can take another. Maybe the hot water would be good for my neck.” He cups the back of neck and winces.
“I’m taking it you had a bad day?”
“Well, you can say that. Or you can say today was a disaster. Whatever word you want to use would suffice.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ll accept your apology.”
I toss him a baffled look. “I’m sorry you had a bad day. I’m not actually apologizing. What would I be apologizing for?”
“For wearing that bikini again without me.”
“Is that still bothering you?”
“Yes, that’s still bothering me. It’s worse now, actually.”
I grin. “And why is that?”
“Because now I know what you feel like under that strip of fabric and I don’t want anyone else thinking about it.”
“Get over it, Fent,” I laugh.
He shifts his weight. “I remember having a discussion that you wouldn’t go out like that without me. And then you go off and nullify our agreement.”
“You told me not to wear it,” I say, smiling sweetly. “And that, Mr. Abbott, is not a discussion or an agreement. That’s you being an asshole and me choosing to ignore you.”
That does it. The corner of his mouth twitches. “Is that what happened?”
“I’m a grown woman. If I want to wear a bikini to a pool, I will. I don’t need your approval to do that. And if you want the truth, you telling me not to is probably going to guarantee I do it again just to prove a point. Although,” I tease, “I do kinda like you not wanting anyone else to see me. So I’ll take that under consideration next time.”
“Next time?”
“Yes. Next time.”
“You’re frustrating.”
“So it’s been said. Now,” I say, switching topics, “Let’s discuss why your day was so bad otherwise. What happened?”
Only because I’m paying attention do I see his shoulders drop a touch forward. It’s a sign of defeat—or at least a battle he’s taking a hit in. I have no idea what to say because I have no idea why he’s even here in Vegas. Something about the way he stands, his posture, the distant look in his eye makes him seem lonely.
I move across the room without saying a word and grab his hand. He watches me with uncertain eyes, but lets me usher him to the bedroom.
My heart thumps wildly, his hand so warm and strong against mine. He holds it possessively and I vaguely wonder if this goes back to the bikini conversation—to him asserting his control—but I dismiss it. I’ll think about that later. Right now, I want to make him feel, just like he did to me last night.
“Sit,” I breathe, pointing to the bed. He drops onto the edge, his weight causing the mattress to dip. He rests his hands on his knees and looks up at me through his thick lashes.
Summoning every bit of self-confidence I can find, I lift the hem of my t-shirt and pull it slowly over my head. I toss it to the side, keeping my gaze glued to his. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react except for the swallow I see bobbing in his throat.
I pull my hair into a messy bun at the top of my head and then turn in an unhurried circle. I can hear my heart beating in my ears, my confidence a little shaky. I’ve never done something so forward in front of a man before, least of all a man like Fenton that has probably seen women entirely more beautiful than me. Regardless, I want to do this for him. I want to distract him from his day, make him feel the way he made me feel.
His eyes are wide when I face him again, his mouth hanging slightly open. Silently, I cheer that this is working. On the outside, I try to play it off like I do this all the time.
“Do you see this?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
“Oh, I fucking see it.”
“Good. Because lots of men might have seen this today.”
His jaw clenches, his eyes burning. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but you’re—”
“Fenton? Shut. Up.” I saunter towards him with all the nonchalance I can find, and stop right in front of him. I pick up his hand again. His skin is hot, his palm sweaty. It’s dizzying how much this man can push the buttons to my libido without even trying.
I lift his other hand and his brows lift too. He’s unsure what’s happening. Hell, I am too.
I place each of his hands on my sides. His neck rolls around under his tie, his nostrils flaring.
Any attempt at hiding my state of intoxication is futile. If his fingers would only drop a few inches lower, he’d feel how wet I am for him. I can’t let that happen because I know if it does, he’ll take over and I don’t want that. Not yet.
“Do you feel this?”
His fingers press harder into my body. “Yeah. I feel this,” he groans.
I lay my hands over his, holding his palms against my sides. “Good. Because no man touched this today.”
He jerks me forward until his chin is nearly touching my breasts. I can feel his hot breath brushing over my skin. My nipples harden, my pussy clenching as he overtakes all of my senses.
“I cannot tell you how lucky that makes you.” He presses a kiss on my sternum. “And him.”
“I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
He rests his forehead against my chest, his hands sliding down my back, over my ass, and to the backs of my thighs. He holds me in place, virtually wrapping himself around me.
I can’t breathe. Not because my air is somehow cut off, but because it’s impossible to breathe with him like this. Like he needs me. So I wrap my arms around his head and lace my fingers through his hair and wait for him to pull back.
We stay that way for a long couple of minutes. I can feel his heart beating, feel him calming down from whatever was getting him frazzled. When he finally pulls back, his face is somber.
“I’m sorry for . . .” he winces, unable to come up with the right term.
“Being an asshole?”
He nods, a sheepish grin on his face. “Yes. For that.”
“Say it.”
“What?” he laughs, pulling back further.
“Say, ‘I’m sorry for being an asshole, Brynne.’“
“Now who’s being ridiculous?”
“Say it.” I take his hand and press it between my legs. “If you want to touch that again tonight, you’ll apologize.”
“Oh fuck,” he groans, trying to push into me. I take a giant step back. He squares his shoulders and pastes on a not-so-genuine smile. “I’m so, so sorry for being an asshole today, Brynne. Please forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven.”
He rolls his eyes, making me giggle. “Anything else?” he asks.
“Want to tell me about your day?”
“Not really.”
I shrug and climb on the bed behind him. Grabbing his lapels and tugging, he helps me shrug his jacket off. I toss it to the side and press my front against his back, reaching over his shoulders to his tie.
He doesn’t resist. He leans his head to the other side and I work at the tie.
His jawline is rough and stubbly, brushing against my arm and sending chills up my spine. I discreetly look at his face and take in every bend and nook, looking for some flaw, something that isn’t completely perfect. I come up with nothing.
“My mom always says when she’s had a crazy day at work that it’s just work,” I say, hoping it helps. “So maybe you should just try to think like that. Whatever happened today is just work. Tomorrow is another day.”
“It’s not that easy. Not with what I have going on.”
I free his tie and toss it to the side. I begin working on the buttons.
“There are few things,” he says, “That make me more frustrated than knowing I could solve a problem and being held back.”
“Are you sure it’s your problem to solve?”
He just nods, unbuttoning the bottom few buttons. “Maybe not technically, I guess, but it is. I feel like it’s mine to solve, and the assholes I’m working with are incorrigible.”
“Um, you own restaurants, right?”
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah.”
“Okay. So, what? You need to install a new fire suppression system or something?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “I wish it were that easy, Brynne.”
I undo the last button and remove his shirt, nearly gasping. His back is on full display, and for a second, I forget about our conversation. I take in the ridges of his muscles, the dips and swells of each piece. His shoulders are broad, everything rippling like a work of art when he glances at me over his shoulder and catches me admiring his body.
“Sorry,” I grin, my cheeks flushing.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s nice thinking you like looking at me.”
“Of course I do. Who wouldn’t?”
“For the record,” I say, shifting so I’m right behind him, “It’s just one of the things I like about you.” I take his beefy shoulders in my hands and knead them back and forth.
“Fuck,” he hisses, hanging his head. “That feels fucking good.”
He doesn’t know how good it feels to have him under my hands, to feel his skin move beneath mine. He’s a layer of silky skin stretched over the hardest muscle fibers I’ve ever felt. I’m certain I could get off just touching him.
“Oh,” he groans as I move to the back of his neck. The timbre of his voice shoots straight through me.
“Do you like that?”
“Yes.”
I let my breasts brush against his back. He rocks back against me, increasing the contact.
“Well, I like this too,” I breathe. “I love feeling your body in my hands.”
“You have no idea.”
“I think I do.”
Skirting to the side, letting my nails drag across his skin as I climb off the bed, I stand before him again. “Stand up.”
He does as I ask, unfolding himself to his full height. I watch as his abs move and his V becomes apparent. I bite my lip and try not to grin.
My fingers find his belt buckle and I deftly undo it. My knuckles brush against his cock, swollen and rock hard. I fumble with the button on his pants. He shoos my hands away and undoes it himself, dropping his pants and kicking them off with his shoes and boxers to the side.
I suck in a breath as I take him in completely for the very first time. I do what he does to me: start at his face, at his deep grey eyes, and let my eyes feast on every inch of his lean, tight body. When I make it to his cock, I can’t go any farther.
My mouth goes dry as I realize how big—and how hard—he is. I’ve always been bad at math, but he’s the biggest of any man I’ve ever been with.
I force a swallow passed the dryness in my throat and let my gaze be pulled to his face again. “Sit,” I order. He complies.
Bending, I place my hands on his shoulders. I lower my lips to his and he’s waiting. His lips move immediately against mine, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth. He bites gently, hard enough to nearly make me yelp. He releases it, licking the spot he bit and then kissing me with all he has.
His hands are on the backs of my legs again, pulling me into his body. I tug his hair, angling his head back.
“Brynne . . .” he groans through his assault. “For the love of God.”
“Ah,” I moan in his mouth, straddling his leg. I grind my pussy against his leg, dropping my hand to his cock. His breathing is stuttered, his body moving with every breath he takes. He tilts his pelvis, my hand sliding down his cock. I can feel his body tense, as needy as mine.
I drop to my knees and wrap my hand around his length. He’s huge, for sure, but it’s how hard he is that blows my mind. Glancing up at him, I lick my lips seductively. He chuckles in disbelief.
“I’m not sure who I need to thank for you losing your phone,” he grins as I squeeze him from base to tip, “But I’d like to let them know I can never thank them enough.”
I run my tongue along the head of his shaft before sucking the head into my mouth. He pushes more into my mouth, growling.
His hands find my hair as I suck him deeper. My tongue rolls around his cock, massaging it.
I squeeze the base and pull up the length, the solidness making my pussy clench. I run my mouth down and back up him, swirling around the head at the top. Finding a rhythm, my breasts bouncing against his leg, he begins to swell.
Before I know it, he pushes away.
“Hey!” I say, looking up at his face.
Fenton grabs me under my thighs, his biceps flexing under the lights, and lifts me so that I’m sitting on him, my legs extended behind him on either side. We’re face to face, chest to chest, pussy to cock.
He’s pressed against my clit and I undulate my hips so that it rocks against his hardness.
“I wanted to suck you off,” I say, my eyes fluttering closed. The feeling of him against my wetness is incredible, and I work myself against him relentlessly.
“There is no way you’re ever going to make me come without you getting yours first.”
“But—”
He hushes me with a slow, sensual kiss. I feel his hand between my legs and I shift back. Before I can wrap my head around it, prepare for it, his cock slides into me in one long, hard thrust.
“Shit,” I purr. A rush of blood slams into my brain, making everything oversensitive and fuzzy at the same time. He grabs my ass and glides in and out of me, his cock hitting the very back with every exquisite shot.
“Do you like that?” he taunts, his cock coated with my wetness. “Does that feel good to you?”
“Oh. My. Fuck.”
I force my eyes open to see his face. His features are pulled together, a look of complete and utter lust written all over him.
His shoulders move with each movement, his cock swells again inside me. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck, lacing them together, and holding on as he finds a tempo that is a state of nirvana.
The slapping of our skin echoes around the room, the sound of my moans and his growls webbing together to push me over the edge.
I can smell his testosterone. I can taste his desire when he brings his lips to mine again.
It’s all too much.
“Fenton,” I say, my voice riddled with urgency. “I’m . . .” I don’t even get it out. I fall over the edge into a state of unbridled bliss. My body goes off, dozens of lights bursting before my eyes, my legs shaking uncontrollably as my body crashes around him.
My pussy pulses and when he groans, the shock waves start up again. I grind my body against him, digging my pelvic bone into his. The friction is tantamount to sensory overload and I collapse onto his shoulder, completely spent.