God, I hate it when Jamie uses my words against me. And I hate that my chest burns when she points out what I said.
After a few moments of silence, she moves from her closet holding a red dress. Tossing it on the bed, she takes a few hesitant steps toward me. “Have things changed?” she probes.
Yes, I want to tell her. Things have changed—at least for me they have. I want to say that whenever I look at Jace now, the flutters of desire have melted away to something else that’s so soft it leaves me breathless. That, over the last several days, whenever he touches me, there's a new gentleness radiating from his fingertips that has me questioning our arrangement. That Jace is a man that I can see myself falling in love with.
I’ve been in love before.
And since the last couple of weeks on my life have been a miserable mess because of Carter’s retaliation, I’m scared out of my mind of falling again.
Especially for Jace, who’s made it clear that he’s not looking for more.
Catching a glimpse of Jamie's wrinkled brow out of the corner of my eye, I place my cocktail on the coaster on her nightstand and lean over to rub my fingertips over the red dress she’s chosen. “You know, I expected you to go for the black.”
She snorts. “Evasive maneuvers, Lucy?”
“It’s hard to sleep with him and not get a little attached.” And by a little attached, I mean that thoughts of Jace are constantly on my mind brain for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I carve my hands through my hair and move my head into a gesture that’s caught between a nod and a shake. “Please, let's just leave it at that.” I’ve so much bad luck with relationships, especially after what happened with Carter, and I'm just scared that voicing my feelings aloud will jinx what I do have with Jace.
She ponders my request for a moment, working her full lips back and forth together, and finally she leaned back on the balls of her feet and nods. “Fine, but the second there's a change in whatever you and Jace are, I want to know.” She plops down on the bed beside me, knocking several pillows to the floor. “You know I'm always rooting for you.”
“I know that.”
“Okay, Cinderella. Enough talk, now it's time to get you ready for your filthy ball with Prince Kinky.”
Clutching the silky red number she wants me to wear to B’s party, I throw my head back and laugh. “Prince Kinky? Hmm … I'll have to tell him you said that.”
Thinning her brown eyes into slits, she playfully punches me in the arm. When I wince, she twists her lips to the side. “Yeah, well, if you do, I'm boob punching your ass next time.”
Jace tells me multiple times on the way to Mr. B's house that I look good enough to eat, and my core tightens each time he murmurs those words. I’m still getting used to being so blatantly open about sex. The fact that he’s never had an issue letting me know every filthy thought on his mind has always been a little mind-blowing, but I accept his last round of praise with a slight smile.
“Thanks.” I dart my focus to a road sign we pass. “You look … nice, too.”
“I should pull over, love,” he says roughly, reaching over to brush his knuckles down my bare arm. I gasp when his touch skims beneath my red dress, nudging the swell of my breast. “We wouldn’t even need to climb into the back seat for me to get a good taste of you. I’ve got ways of licking your pussy without you moving an inch.”
God, he has the ability to drive me absolutely insane with mere words. No wonder I explode every time our skin collides. As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, he lays a possessive hand over my thigh, spreading his fingertips apart until my skin warms to his touch.
“You’re shivering,” he points out, his voice a low seductive growl. He pulls up to the gate in front of Mr. B’s sprawling house and turns to me. “Am I making you nervous?”
“I'm not nervous, I'm just—” He immediately cuts me off by giving my thigh a sharp slap that reverberates through me, sending a tight pulse to the juncture of my thighs.
“That, Lucy,” he says with a cocky grin, “feels like a shiver to me. But if you’d like, I’ll be happy to test my theory that I can make you come from right where you’re sitting before we go inside. And I promise you, you won’t be able to pretend you’re not shivering by the time I’m through with you.”
I’m sure I won’t, and that’s the worst part about it. There’s a part of me that’s willing to spread my legs open for him right here, right now, and I wouldn’t give a damn who saw. While he announces our presence in the intercom by the gate, I take the opportunity to catch my breath. Flipping down the visor to examine myself in the mirror, I press my palms to my pink cheeks in the hope that my flush will disappear before we go inside.
“You’re very, very quiet,” Jace points out as the gate swings open.
“And you’re dirty.” He moves his dark head up and down in agreement. “Actually, you’re just plain nasty.”
“I’m not denying a fucking thing and neither should you because you like it.” His fingers stroke a path along my skin as they trail up my thigh. He doesn’t stop until he’s a centimeter from the center of my panties. He makes a strangled noise. “Your cunt is so warm. So ready. I want to see you come.”
“You should focus on seeing the driveway before you mow down a car.” Tsking at me, he skims his knuckles over the scrap of lace covering my sex. I can’t help but feel a little smug when it affects him, and he sucks in a breath through his straight white teeth.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes. “There's barely anything there.” As he guides his Challenger up the driveway to Mr. B’s mansion, I allow a smile touch my lips.
“It’s better than going commando.” He looks at me with a wicked gleam in his eyes, and I swallow hard. Shit, what the hell have I just wiggled myself into?
“Not at all,” he drawls, and his voice takes me to paradise. I swear I can listen to this man speak all day and he would never lose my attention. Parking his car, he extends his free hand toward me and crooks his long fingers. “Give me your panties, Lucy.”
I clench my knees together. It doesn’t do much to help because he’s already laid claim to what’s right between them. He drums his fingers impatiently against the outside of the lace.
“Why?” I demand. Intense blue-gray eyes clash with mine, and when I don’t budge to oblige him, he shoves my panties to the side and circles his middle and index fingers roughly around my clit. My head falls back against the headrest behind it, and I arch my back, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip to hold back my moan.
“So that whenever I look at you tonight,” he starts, and steals the breath from my lungs when he gives my sex a stinging slap with his fingertips, “I can imagine you coming, screaming my name, looking at me the same way you're doing right now.”