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No, that couldn’t be right. Merrick knew that part of me was reserved for Osian’s jewelry.
I glanced sideways at him. He looked like sin in that black suit, fitted to his body. My throat tightened. I was so fucking obsessed with this man it felt like a physical ache sometimes.
We pulled up to his private plane. My skirt whipped around my legs as he helped me across the tarmac and up the ramp. Then we rose above the city and I watched until the light became blips in the darkness.
He poured himself a whiskey and me a glass of golden champagne. He sat back, crossing one leg. I curled up under his arm and he stroked down my back. Gathering up my transparent skirt and sliding his hand beneath it. Against my bare thigh.
“Maybe I’ll just tell the pilot to keep flying,” he murmured. “Take you to Paris and never come back.”
My heart thumped, off beat.
“We can’t,” I whispered.
“I know.”
I glanced up at him. He really had the most beautiful eyelashes I’d ever seen on a man. Long, thick, dark, making the beautiful cobalt blue of his irises so striking it still distracted me after all this time.
I was giddy on everything—the night, his gifts, the diamonds, him in that suit, the champagne just hitting my brain.
“You’re so pretty,” I murmured.
He laughed. “Thank you.”
“Do people ever compliment your eyes? Like, when you’re just out having lunch or shopping?”
“It happens. They catch people off guard.”
“They look good on you,” I said seriously. “It’s like you’re wearing guyliner.”
“Come again?”
“You know…eyeliner for men.”
“Ah, thank you, I guess.”
I snuggled against him, taking a sip of champagne. “You’re so perfect.”
There was a long silence and he cleared his throat. “I’m a work in progress, cariad, as we all are.”
There was a note of sadness in his voice I didn’t like. I’d brought him down and I regretted it. My hand slid up his thigh and I traced over his groin with my fingernail.
He went hard instantly, shifting his hips.
“You’re horny,” I said.
“We haven’t fucked in three days,” he said. “I’ve been busy.”
I knew instantly what I wanted to do for him. We’d been sleeping together for weeks now, but he had never asked me to perform oral on him. It wasn’t for lack of wanting, I knew that. He had enjoyed it when I’d put him in my mouth the first time he made me come.
I suspected he didn’t want me to feel pressured.
My heart picked up as I leaned forward to set my champagne aside. I caught a glimpse of my hands, decorated in diamonds and gold.
They looked mature and elegant. Like a woman who knew what she wanted. A woman who made a powerful man want to open his wallet.
God, that made me want to suck him off even more. We were alone, but I still felt vulnerable as I slid to my knees between his shoes. He tensed, his eyes widening. His fingers tensed on his glass, knuckles going white.
“What are you doing?” he breathed.
