Chapter Eight
Her eyes were wide, cheeks flushed. Her breath caught. Because he’d shocked her. Maybe it was too much, too fast. They’d only kissed and touched—so briefly. But then he thought about the years he’d spent waiting for her, and he knew it couldn’t happen quick enough. He’d never have her fast enough, deep enough.
It wasn’t only loyalty that had sent him running from Austin after he’d walked in on her and Chris. It wasn’t only jealousy. It was also the bone-deep satisfaction he’d felt at seeing her on her knees—even if he’d wanted her in front of him instead.
He wanted her on her knees, mouth hugging his cock. He wanted her eyes focused on him. He wanted her begging and desperate and needy. Imagining her that way had kept him up countless nights, tugging relentlessly, roughly at his dick as if that could somehow compare.
But this was Lia. Sweet, smart, bold Lia who probably didn’t want him pushing her around during sex.
Unless she did. “Please,” she whispered, and he almost came in his boxer briefs.
He shoved the food aside—the pie too—to make room for her. “Step out of those jeans for me, sweetheart. I want to see those long legs and creamy skin.”
He was quiet most of the time. Probably soft spoken for an army grunt. But he liked to be loud in bed. And rude and demanding. Not everyone liked it, but he couldn’t change himself.
Not even for her.
Her breathing sped up. Her eyes turned glassy, but she stood and obeyed him without question. He knew he’d surprised her, but so far she’d reacted perfectly to him, as if he’d hummed a tune and discovered her following behind. The Pied Piper, just for her, and he’d lead them both underwater.
When her legs were bare, he fought the urge to go onto his knees, to press his open mouth to her calves and kiss her feet.
There’d be time enough for that later.
“Get your ass on the table,” he said hoarsely.
“Ethan?” Her voice wavered. Had he gone too far? Not that it mattered if he had. They were already here, past the edge and falling free.
He softened his voice. “It’s okay, baby. Just scoot that pretty ass on the table. I want your pussy where I can see it.” He kept going when she complied, wanting to reward her. “You want me to see your pussy, don’t you? So soft and pink. You want me to kiss you there.”
She settled on the table, her legs pressed together, modesty clinging to her half-naked body in shreds. “It’s so bright,” she muttered, eyes cast down.
He never wanted her embarrassed with him. He would have turned off the light to spare her, but the whole cabin was filled with shadows, the day’s last light streaming through the windows. And his sympathy wasn’t quite strong enough to make him leave her alone.
“I want to see all of you,” he said, implacable. “Every shadow. Every part. I’m going to spread your legs and press my face in between. There isn’t a part of you I won’t see or touch or lick, understand? All you can do is take it.”
Just like that, it didn’t matter. Didn’t matter that she had been with his best friend. He’d take the risk that Chris would speak to him again—someday. This wasn’t that future, and it wasn’t their shared past. This was now, when he pressed the heel of his palm to his dick to appease the ache. It would be a long time before he got relief, and he intended to make Lia pay during every minute of it.
If she was willing. “Nod if you understand.”
* * *
Lia stared at the man and tried to focus. He wanted her to be at his mercy. He wanted her to give herself over to him and hope he would be kind. He wanted to really make sure she wanted this—and she couldn’t think of anything sweeter.
She nodded.
He slid one heavy palm between her knees and spread them. Cool air rushed over her sex, and she gasped. He was going to take her—finally.
She stopped hoping he would be kind about it. She wanted him raw instead—feral, and the rough nudge of his thighs between hers told her she’d get just that.
Except she didn’t. Instead he touched her softly, trailing blunt fingertips across her collarbone, a course brush of calluses over her arms. Feeling her, teasing her, tracing the same path his eyes had done when he’d walked in on her and Chris.
“Why did you come back, Rosalia?”
Rosalia. His stern tone sent shivers down her spine. “I got a job here.”
“And that’s why you’re here. In Dearling.” His voice was flat, plain statements of fact instead of questions. Because he already knew the truth. And he wouldn’t let her get away without knowing it too.
“I’m here for you.” The words came out on a breath, more cool air than sound.
“I’m your friend. That’s why.”
Her throat grew tight. “You are my friend.”
His eyes softened. “Oh, Lia. Why didn’t you tell me when you got the job? When you applied for the job?”
“Maybe because I wanted to do something without you and Chris helping me.”
“We didn’t do a damn thing except hang around you, and that was a favor you gave us, Lia. Every single thing you accomplished, you did on your own. And if I made even one second of your day easier, then I’m grateful.”
She blinked.
Remorse flickered across his expression. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, that’s all.”
And she didn’t feel worthy.
He stepped forward, his eyes solemn and dark. “I was an idiot for waiting that long to tell how I felt about you. But I was also an idiot for walking away. I’d be your friend, if that’s all you wanted.”
Oh no. Just friends? There was a huge freaking difference between friends and lovers, and she’d never be satisfied with the former. She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, reaching up his back. His muscles flexed under her touch, and she felt a rumble of pleasure through his chest. God, this was delicious. Every move she made was answered by his body, every touch reflected in his.
His voice went husky. “Guess not, then.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Always friends, Ethan. And more.”
She worked her way down his body to show him just how much more. She showed him with her hands on the zipper of his uniform, with her lips against the hot shaft in her palm. She showed him with her tongue, mixing the sweetness of berries with salty precum. He groaned above her, shuddering and swearing until he dragged her to the bed, practically tripping on his clothes, almost tearing hers off.
Then he was inside her, then he was home.
And so was she.
She managed not to scream only by biting his shoulder, and he jerked and groaned his release in reply.
Snow came down that night, pale flecks through the night air. They watched through the window, warm from the fire and the company and the heat of their bodies.
It was the middle of the night before either could be moved to get food. Lia dug through the paper bags and found enough to feed them for several days before they’d have to dip into the pantry. There was a whole tub of mashed potatoes and a box of yeasty biscuits. There were hamburger steaks topped with grilled onions and gravy.
And she, she herself, carved the roast beast.
* * *
Want another super sexy accidental threesome?
An heiress without a cause.
Two billionaires determined to claim her.
And a war fought on the most dangerous battlefield—the heart.
“What an incredible book! Survival of the Richest has everything — Skye Warren’s beautiful writing, a sexy, compelling story; intricate characters, and a provocative love triangle that will captivate you until the very end.” - New York Times bestselling author Nina Lane
SURVIVAL OF THE RICHEST is a sexy modern love triangle story about love and money and finding what you want while risking everything you have.