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“Are you sure?”
“Let me show you how sure.” My hands went to the waist of his jeans.
“Your steak is going to be cold.”
“It’ll still be good. After.” I sank to my knees on the carpet and tugged his jeans down to his knees.
He’d gone commando.
Brant’s eyes were dark, glittering with desire and his cock was hard enough to drive nails. I wanted him inside me, but this wasn’t about me. It was about him. I wanted to make him feel all the things he’d done for me. I wanted to give him pleasure with no expectation of anything in return—ecstasy just for the sake of itself.
He allowed me to do as I wished with him, his eyes on my every move, but he kept his palms flat on the bed.
When I’d taken him into my mouth, he whispered a trespass. “What would you do right now if Kieran was here?”
I pulled back from my work. “This isn’t for Kieran. It’s for you. And he’s not here. Let’s not talk about this anymore.”
“What if I told you he was watching us?”
“What if you’re just being perverse?” I tossed back.
“What if I am?”
I sighed. “What’s this about? Do you want to fuck him?” I was trying not to think about Kieran, I wanted to be here with Brant and only Brant.
“Maybe I do.” His expression was intense. “Maybe I have.”
I clenched my thighs together thinking about it. He said the dirtiest things. “Then maybe you should leave me out of it.”
“That’s the thing, Claire. You need to be honest with yourself about what you want. And you don’t want to be left out of it.” He pushed his fingers through my hair and pulled me back down to his erection. “You want to be doing this right now and have Kieran taking you from behind.”
“What kind of game are you playing?” Why did this have to be so complicated? This made me so hot and I did want it, but this was for the woman I pretended to be, not the woman I really was.
And it would be naïve of me not to think of the fallout. It would feel good until after, until we had to examine our emotions.
“The one where everyone wins. Strip for me,” he commanded in a stern voice.
Honestly, I’d rather just give him the BJ fully clothed. “I don’t—”
“I want to see you. If you don’t trust me to look at you, how can you trust me to fuck you? You’re beautiful. Show me.” His tone was gentler now.
I’d decided I wanted to do this for him. I wanted to please him, and this was what he’d asked of me. He wanted me to strip for him.
And for some reason, I wanted to cry.
No, not some reason. A million reasons. All the sniping little comments that played in my head on repeat. I didn’t want to be bare in front of him, my body exposed—all of my fat out there for him to see.
It was stupid. It wasn’t like there was anything there that wasn’t in the dark. I knew that. He’d seen me naked before. His dick was still hard. He still wanted me.
But I didn’t want myself.
So I didn’t understand how he could want me.
“You let me finger you until you came on a public boat tour, but you won’t strip for me in your room where no one but me can see you?”
“I… can’t.” I almost choked on the words. I guess the fallout had already started. I couldn’t stop thinking long enough to feel.
He pulled me to my feet, slid his hands up my thighs and up my shirt to cup my breasts and then back down to my waist where he undid the snap on my jeans.
“Take it off for me, baby.” Brant tugged them down my legs and I stepped out of them.
When his hands were on me, it was different somehow. When he was taking my clothes off, it was okay. But if I had to do it, I felt like an ugly bug under a microscope. He unsnapped my bra with a quick motion.
“You’re so beautiful. Won’t you let me look at you?”
It might have been the pleading in his voice, I don’t know. But I took off my shirt and shrugged my bra to the floor. I wanted to close my eyes so I couldn’t see him looking at me.
I didn’t have to acknowledge my own flesh.
He drew my hand down to his cock. “Feel what you do to me. How much I want you.”
I sank to my knees again, both to taste him and to hide.
He traced his thumb over my cheek and it was somehow more intimate than all the rest of it.
Something warm surged in my chest—I didn’t want to name it. It was too much, too soon.
His attention was suddenly on the door, and the shadow filling the space between the door and frame where it had drifted open.
My gaze followed his in this awful slow motion that reminded me of horror films where the audience screamed at the screen. I didn’t need any sort of confirmation to know that it was Kieran. Shame burned my face and my eyes watered. I wondered what he’d seen. What he’d heard.
