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“And you’re going to come for me like this, aren’t you?”
She tries to nod with my hand clamped over her mouth.
“Yeah, you fucking are,” I groan, my balls aching to fill her as she clenches around me. “That’s it… Let it go.”
She holds my eyes, and I can pinpoint the exact moment her orgasm steals her from me, making her eyes glaze over and her breath stall. I bury myself inside her, enthralled. Ignoring the fact this will all end one day. It has to. But until then, I’ll keep her distracting me. Because fuck, I crave being distracted by her. It’s better than the high that comes with winning.
“Ava.”
I rip my hand away from her mouth and replace it with my lips, kissing her with a guttural growl as I come hard inside her.
She cries out my name.
“That’s it,” I hiss as she squeezes me, milking every drop. “That’s it, Firefly.”
Better than winning.
Chapter 23
Ava
Jet zips his laptopcase shut and pulls his phone from his pocket. I rest one hip against the counter of the kitchen as I watch him. His face is serious. He’s in a navy-blue suit and deep gold tie. It sets off his tan and makes him look like a bronzed god.
I press my thighs together, easing the happy ache. He was true to his word and kept me up most of the night coming on his tongue. I must have eventually passed out, because I woke this morning to the sound of him skipping on the deck.
“Home time already.” I sigh and look around the luxurious villa as I unscrew the cap from my juice.
Jet frowns as he types on his phone.
“I’ll be sad to leave,” I say a little louder.
His attention stays on his phone as he says, “I’m sure you’ll stay in other places you like now that you’re flying again.”
I open my mouth to confess that the idea of flying anywhere without him beside me is still terrifying. But his attention is glued to his phone. Callaghan and Ophelia joined some of their friends on a yacht this morning, so Jet’s access to him has been removed. Not that he seems concerned. He told me to pack this morning because it’s time to leave.
All his prior moodiness returned when he put his suit on this morning. Gone are the glimpses of the softer Jet I’ve been lucky enough to witness. The man in front of me isn’t the same one who opened up and told me how he misses his mother every day, and admitted he believes love is a game that’s not worth playing.
Jet Grant, emotionless, billionaire CEO is back.
I finish my juice and put the bottle in the recycling can.
“I’m looking forward to getting back to Rochwell. Do you think Margaret has missed us?” I walk over to the table and pack my laptop away into its case.
“You maybe. Not me. But she’ll have to miss you a little longer. We aren’t going back to England yet.”
“Where are we going?”
“LA. I need to see Hayden and check in face-to-face.”
“As in, California?”
“I own an airline. Don’t sound so surprised.”
He slides his phone into his pocket and finally looks at me. His brow furrows as I shift from foot to foot.
“Umm.”
“Words, Ava,” he clips.
