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I pressed my lips together and shrugged as if I didn’t care. His mouth curved. The asshole knew I was affected, saw the insecurities and fear that I was trying to mask. He saw the jealousy and fed on it. Loved it.
He reached a rough hand out and cupped my neck. Pulled it toward his pelvis. "Suck my cock."
"What? No." I pushed on his stomach, and he caught my wrist. Shoved it down, until my fingers were at his jeans.
"Suck it and see if you earn the right for me to tell her no.”
I said nothing and, for a long moment, we battled with our eyes. I wanted to suck his dick. God, my mouth watered for the feel of his hard cock against my tongue. But I'd be damned if I was made to do anything.
Holding his gaze, I pushed against his jeans and he pulled me harder, keeping me in place.
"Suck it and remind me of why I said no."
"You said no?" I looked into his eyes and damn if they weren’t as tortured as my own.
"Yes." He hissed in appreciation as I undid the button of his jeans and pulled his zipper down. "I don't know why. Her beautiful face just begging for me to bend her over and fuck”—the rest of his sentence was lost in the groan that came when I took him down my throat. He fisted my hair, stared at my face, and rocked against my mouth, letting out a string of curses.
"You fuck him," he swore. "You fuck him all the time and then expect me to be a saint.”
My eyes flooded with tears, and I told myself that the reaction was from the sucking efforts and nothing else. I needed to refocus his attention and the soft moan he gave told me I was on the right track. "Why?" he mumbled. "Why shouldn’t I go back to her?"
I never answered his question, only his need. And when his orgasm was over and he pulled me on top of him on the couch, his arms enveloped me into his chest, and he kissed me, and the answer didn't seem to matter anymore.
Chapter 44
ONE YEAR AGO
My house was unaccustomed to a man's presence. Brant had visited twice, early in our relationship, then never returned. Now, after more than a month of Lee, it had adjusted to the weight of a man on its couch pillows. The sprawl of dirty boots kicked off in its foyer. Lee's scent invaded its hallways, competing with the scent of wood polish and fresh flowers, masculinity meeting delicacy and crushing it into dirt. For the first time, Brant’s shirts and workout shorts—items I had worn home after early hook-ups, before I had a closet at his mansion—were finally being used.
I'd seen Lee almost every day of the last week, sucking up the time with him while I could take it. Brant had been MIA, something that had Jillian worried. She'd only seen him a few times, darting into the office at sporadic times, and not answering calls or texts. She did concede that this sort of thing was normal, especially in times of high stress. With his Apple negotiations at a breaking point and a few billion dollars up in the air, stress was certainly on his shoulders. I don’t know how Jillian handled it—the unpredictability of his behavior, but with three decades with him, she knew how to handle it, and I trusted her advice and direction.
And… I didn't mind Brant’s absence. It allowed me unfettered time with Lee, an opportunity that I was embracing with both hands. Every moment I held onto with claws, unsure how many more I would have left. Like an approaching storm, I could feel the end of our future, it teetering on a thin ledge of circumstance. Lee would disappear. I knew it, could feel it in every moment. And then, this entire cycle would start over with a new man, a new someone that would be my side piece to Brant.
As I watched, he stood in front of the open fridge, a hand resting on the top, his eyes skimming the interior as the cool air drifted through the space. "You have nothing," he announced.
"It's full. That hardly constitutes as nothing."
"No beer. No junk food. No ice cream. I could eat every item in this fridge and lose weight." He shut the door and sauntered into the living room. "Let's go grab dinner."
"Now?" I glanced at my watch. "It's almost nine."
"Which is why I'm hungry. That thing we ate for dinner was weak."
I rolled my eyes. The 'thing' was foi gras that I spent three hours preparing. It was Brant's favorite dish, one I expected Lee to scarf down with appreciation. I should have known, in this complicated scenario of conflicts, that he would hate it. "Fine." I stood, tossing my book down on the dark blue sofa. "I'll go change."
"Uh uh. You're fine." He grabbed my elbow and steered me towards the door.
I glanced down at my faded boyfriend jeans. "Where are we going?"
"Let's just drive till we find something. There's got to be somewhere around here that's got the game."
I grabbed my keys off the counter and pressed the button for the garage. It was a cool night and I paused in the doorway, then opened the coat closet and reached up, grabbing a folded black cashmere sweater off the shelf. By the time I stepped out and pressed the keypad, locking the front door, Lee was facing the garage, the full range of cars revealed as the doors swept up.
I stepped down the wide brick steps just in time to hear his low whistle. "Damn, Lucky. I might start fucking this guy."
Irritation flared. "I do have my own money, you know. Not everything is from Brant." It was a ridiculous defense to say to Lee, made more so by the fact that two of the four cars parked in the enclosure were gifts from Brant. I moved toward my Mercedes, my everyday car, but he reached out and stopped my movement. "Let's take the black one."
"The black one?" I stalled.
