I pushed open the door to the kitchen and flipped on the light. For as little time as I spent in the room, it was surprisingly one of my favorites. Kitchens had always been my refuge as a kid when my father would lose his shit—he’d never set foot in one, as far as I knew—so I could always escape his wrath there.
Seeing it empty of Jerome, my majordomo, chef, and keeper of all things, was not surprising given it was his night for poker. He’d joined my father’s household when I was sixteen, when my father had first been sent to France as an engineer for a multinational corporation. Jerome had followed us from France to Germany two years later when my father founded his own company. Without Jerome, I wouldn’t have been able to keep Levi from going to a secondary guardian after my father’s death. My mother had passed away before we’d left the United States, taken too fast by an aggressive form of breast cancer.
Every time I thought about my mother, sadness followed. But every time I thought about my father, I shut down all thought and emotion. I would not think about that day, the one that had ended with him in a body bag and me in the hospital.
No.
Jaw set, I crossed to the fridge and yanked it open. Grabbing a container of hummus, I turned and slid it across the counter.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Offering to feed a guest in my home?”
“An unwanted and unwelcome guest in your home,” Yve clarified.
“A guest who greets me naked is rarely unwanted and unwelcome.”
“You know what I mean,” she said, her cheeks coloring.
Fuck. With that blush staining her cheeks, I couldn’t stare at her without recalling how gorgeous she’d looked naked or the feel of her nipple between my fingers. She might not spell her name like the first woman to tempt a man, but that didn’t make her any less of a temptation.
I wanted her naked again. The robe wasn’t the obstacle, though; it was Yve herself. But she didn’t have to like me to fuck me; she just had to want me more than she hated me.
Yve kicked this little game into overdrive when she’d wrapped her hand around my cock. I’d watched her pupils dilate. Her nipples had been practically diamond tipped. She wanted me.
The question was—how badly?
I crossed to the pantry and pulled out a carton of flatbread. Returning to the kitchen island, I set it next to the hummus. “Eat.”
Her eyes lifted to mine once more. “Why?”
“Because you need energy if I’m going to bend you over and fuck you on the counter.”
Her mouth dropped open and her pupils dilated before rage bloomed in her eyes. “You mother—”
“Tell me you don’t want it,” I taunted her.
“Fuck—”
I cut her off before she could curse me out. “Tell me you’re not thinking about how hard my dick was when it was pressed against your palm, and how much you want it filling you. Tell me, Yve. I dare you.”
“You—”
“Have Yve Santos pegged completely.”
Her golden eyes blazed. “I hate you.”
I smiled. “But you want me.”
“Fuck you, Titan.”
“No, Yve. I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to love it.”
I stepped forward and reached for the tie to the robe. The woman was completely unpredictable, because once again she reached for me. But not my dick this time, my belt. She had it unbuckled as the robe slid off her shoulders.
“Don’t think this means I like you,” she bit out.
“Trust me, I know you don’t,” I said before I lowered my mouth to hers and took her lips.
Yve tore her mouth away from mine. “No. Don’t kiss me. You want to fuck, then we keep this impersonal. That’s my rule, Titan. You break it, and this is over.”
“Fine.” I groaned as she unzipped my slacks and palmed my cock, bare skin to bare skin.
Fuuuck.
I reached out and cupped her breast—the other one this time—and squeezed her nipple.
“These tits . . . I don’t know how you expected me to keep my hands off you once I’d seen them. Fucking perfect.”
Yve’s blush spread from her cheeks down her chest, but she said nothing while she pumped my dick. Christ, just the clasp of her hand was better than some pussy I’d fucked.
I dropped my mouth and followed the trailing color to Yve’s other nipple. Taking it between my lips and teeth, I sucked and tugged until her grip tightened and her hips shifted closer to mine.
Lowering my hand from her breast, I skimmed it down the curve of her stomach, along the flare of her hip, and cupped her ass. Jesus. That ass. Reaching between her thighs, I slid two fingers into the wet heat slicking her pussy lips.
I lifted my head from her nipple for a beat. “Jesus, woman. You do want this. You’re soaked.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” she ordered, her gaze burning into mine.
A triumphant grin stretched my mouth, and I plunged two fingers inside her.
“Oh God—”
“No. Say my name, Yve. That’s what I want from you. I’ll make you come harder than you’ve ever come in your life, but you have to scream my name so there’s no doubt who’s fucking you.”