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She didn’t forget.
The black pearl choker—even more gorgeous than the one I purchased in the Diamond District—sits perfectly on her neck.
She didn’t forget.
No need for my not-so-subtle reminder of who’s in charge after all. I’m a little disappointed, truth be told, but no matter. Later, I’ll make it abundantly clear who’s in control here.
I walk in swiftly, closing the door behind me.
Already, I own this room.
Already, she feels it. I see it in her eyes, in the quick shudder she tries—but fails—to suppress.
I move closer to her, lean toward her, my lips ready to take hers—
Only a millimeter away, and I stop.
Hardest damned thing I’ve ever done.
“I won’t,” I say gruffly. “I won’t ruin those perfect lips. Not yet.”
She sighs. “Please.”
“Not yet,” I say again.
She trembles before me.
My cock responds.
How easy it would be to grab her, haul her the few steps to her bed, say, “Fuck the gala,” and fuck her instead.
I ache with how much I’ve missed her, how much strength it took for me not to constantly check in with her. Then Tessa’s phone call about the puppy, about how Skye was crying.
Crying. My Skye. And I wasn’t there to comfort her.
As if reading my mind, she says, “I missed you. Why didn’t you call?”
“I was busy,” I say.
“You couldn’t find two minutes?”
I rip the mask off my eyes, grab her cheeks, and blurt out words before I can stop them. “Baby, if I’d called, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from getting on a plane and flying back to you.”
She inhales swiftly.
“I couldn’t do that. I did it once, and I nearly lost a deal because of it. I had to take care of business.”
So easy.
So easy to kiss those lips…
But clearer heads must prevail. I’m expected at the gala, and I promised Skye a night out.
“Christopher’s waiting,” I say. “Let’s go.”
She grabs the bag sitting next to the door.
“What’s that?” I ask.
