Filthy English

“What?” I asked.

He exhaled, his face tight. “I just don’t like seeing you upset. If he were here right now, I’d beat the bloody shit out him.”

I studied him, taking in the banked anger he was obviously keeping on a leash for my benefit. I pushed out a smile. “I believe you, and thank you for the sentiment, but he’s a battle I need to fight on my own.”

He reached over and touched the hair tie that was still on my finger. “You’re the kind of girl who will never be alone for long. You’re too beautiful and the best kisser I know.”

“I’m not beautiful.”

“Indeed, you are.” His voice rang with sincerity. “I thought so the moment you walked into my Tau party with your sweater all buttoned up. There’s something about you I don’t see in other girls.”

My mouth parted. “Like what?”

“Balls. You lost your dad, and somehow, it made you stronger.”

Something inside me cracked—or shifted. I looked into his stormy gray eyes and saw understanding staring back at me. And desire.

Maybe it was finally talking to Hartford after weeks of silence, maybe it was the fact I had another man’s name on my heart, or maybe it was simply the fact that he got me.

But suddenly I wanted to forget about Hartford, and the only way to do that was to have throw-down hard sex with the one guy I’d never been able to get out of my head.

I STOOD FROM the bed and faced him, causing him to start at my abrupt movement. “You have too many clothes on,” I said and pulled the towel off from around his hips.

He inhaled as I stared down at him, his erect cock like a lead pipe as it rested on his thigh. Hard. Thick.

I lifted my eyes to meet his molten gaze. His chest rose. Up. Down. Lust shot through me. “You’ve been hard for me all morning.”

“Remi?” he breathed, biting his lip. “Don’t—”

I put my hands over his mouth and went to my knees in front of him. “Shhh. I—I just want to . . .” I swallowed, struggling to find the words. “I—I want you to rip me apart then stitch me back together.”

He sucked in a shuddering breath. “Think hard about this, Remi, because I can’t tell you no.”

“I have. A million times.”

I traced my hand down his chest slowly, easing over his defined pecs and abs. His body was perfection, tan and smooth.

He groaned at my touch, his head going back, his entire body tightening in anticipation of what he could clearly read in my eyes. I wanted him. I wanted him fiercely, with the kind of passion I believed few people ever experienced.

I bent over, took him in my mouth and sucked, sliding my tongue over his long shaft from base to tip. My hand snaked around his hardness and tugged as I devoured him.

“Fucckkk.” His hands went to my hair and clutched.

I pumped his velvet skin as I took as much of him as I could.

He breathed my name and maneuvered my head, silently telling me what he wanted.

But I already knew. I’d never forgotten.

My mouth explored him, tasted him, finding places I remembered, mapping out new ones.

He tried to pull me up. “Remi,” he said hoarsely.

I raised my face to him. “You want me to stop?”

His chest rose. “No. I—I can’t breathe. I—what are you doing to me?”

“What I’ve wanted since the night I kissed you at Masquerade.”

He slid his thumb across my lips. “This will change things. I don’t know how it will end. I can’t promise you anything. This is all I can give you.”

I nodded.

I wanted the forbidden fruit, even if it was for just one time.

He pulled me to my feet, cupped my face. “But I don’t want you on your knees for me—not this time. I want you.”

Getting his meaning, I stood up, unzipped my pants and let them fall to the floor. With shaky hands, I lifted my blouse over my head. My panties were next as I slipped them past my ankles and tossed them on the floor. With his eyes burning into my skin, I walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out my strand of pearls and looped them around my neck. Long and creamy, they hung past the V between my breasts.

“You like?” I asked softly, turning to face him as I threaded them through my fingers.

He came toward me, a majestic male, his heated gaze never leaving mine. “I do.”

“Want me to put one of my little cardigans on?” I smiled impishly.

His eyes went low and heavy. “No. I want you just like that.”

“Wait,” I said.

He halted, teeth snapping together. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not. It’s just . . . the contract. Let’s say no kissing on the mouth—and we can still be friends, right?” I paused, nibbling on my bottom lip. “Your friendship is important to me, Dax.”

He’d reached me by then, and his hand curled around my neck, careful of the bruises there. “You could say anything right now and I’d agree to it.” Grazing his nose up my neck to my ear, he whispered, “And you better hang on the first time.”

My body clenched at first time.

He eased between my legs and hoisted me up by my bottom to straddle him, biceps bulging as his hands palmed my ass. My limbs wrapped around his hips as he pivoted us around and eased me down on the edge of the bed.

He pushed my arms out to their sides and pinned them there gently but with the touch of a warrior. My chest rose. Waiting. Anticipating him.