Eloise headed away from Main, down a street into a residential neighborhood. We reached the end of a block, and she kept on moving.
So did I.
She was supposed to erase the bad. She was supposed to be a beautiful picture over an ugly drawing. This? Not helping.
I didn’t need two miserable experiences when it came to my ex-wives.
By the start of the second block, my long strides had closed the gap between us. I trailed her by three feet.
She heard me behind her and glanced over her shoulder, those blue eyes narrowing. But she didn’t stop walking.
So neither did I.
“Jasper,” she hissed, shooting me a glare. “People are going to see us.”
“Who?” I held out my hands, looking around the deserted street. Not a soul was out in their yard. It was too fucking cold. And no one had driven by either.
She frowned, faced forward and kept on walking.
“You could at least not run away when you see me.” Or call me sir.
“We just agreed to keep this a secret.”
“So that means I’m a fucking stranger to you now?”
She huffed, her breath a billowing cloud as she turned off the main sidewalk for a walkway. She’d changed directions so fast that I’d blown past her and had to turn around to follow her to a small, single-level house with denim-blue siding and a white door.
Eloise stopped on the stoop, bending to lift up the corner of her welcome mat and pull out a key.
“Not a great place to hide your house key,” I said.
“Who’s hiding it?” She slid it into the lock. “That’s just where I leave it.”
I blinked. “You leave your house key outside your house for anyone to find? You’re joking.”
She didn’t answer. She shoved inside the house, dropping her phone on a small table in the entryway before walking to the adjoining living room.
I closed the door behind us and followed.
She whirled, her hands flailing in the air. “Why did you follow me here?”
I was about to tell her I’d changed my mind. That I couldn’t keep this from Foster. But I didn’t get the chance.
“You can’t just follow me.” She waved a hand between us. “If people see us, they’ll know. If my parents find out, I’ll lose everything. They’ll think I’m not responsible. They’ll think I haven’t changed. They’ll think I can’t be trusted with The Eloise. Then that’s it. Poof. They already didn’t want to give it to me. They already tried to give it to Knox and probably would have except he said he didn’t want it because yeah, maybe I wasn’t ready for it then and maybe they were right about me being too close with the employees but it’s been a good year and seriously, this will ruin everything.”
She gulped down some air. Then she started pacing.
The talking? Didn’t stop. Apparently my wife didn’t need to be drunk to ramble.
It was like being in Vegas all over again. I watched her, transfixed, and unable to look anywhere else.
Another man might have glanced around her house. Made sure a serial killer hadn’t used her not-so-hidden key to break in while she’d been at work.
But I just stared.
“Why did we get married?” Her hands dove into her glossy hair. “We could have just had sex. I definitely would have had sex. A lot of sex. Because it was good sex. I mean, we could have kept having sex. But this? My family is going to—”
“Eloise.” I closed the distance between us, my eyes searching hers.
Her shoulders slumped. “I have to show them I’m responsible.”
Oh, how I hated that word out of her mouth. She was too free, too pure of heart, to be trapped by the expectations of others.
“Fuck responsibility.”
“Jasper.” She frowned. “Not helping.”
I didn’t like the frown. So I sealed my lips over hers and kissed it away.
She whimpered, her body stiffening.
No, that wasn’t right. The best part about Saturday was the way she’d melted for me. So I backed off enough to whisper against her mouth. “Relax.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
It took her a moment, but her eyes drifted closed. The tension crept from her frame. When I licked the seam of her lips, she moaned. And this time when I kissed her, she sank into it, letting me slide inside.
Damn, but she tasted good. Better than Saturday. How was that possible?
Would sex be better too?
There was only one way to find out.
CHAPTER FIVE
ELOISE
Jasper’s tongue slid against mine in a lazy swirl before he pulled away, planting a kiss on the corner of my mouth. Soft. Sweet. Then he whipped the sweater from my body fast enough to make me gasp.
He swallowed it with a plundering kiss, then devoured my mouth. His palms flattened on my skin, pressing and pushing, his movements rough and feverish.
One moment he was slow. The next, frenzied.
Jasper made my head spin. Just like he had on Saturday. He set the pace, and there was no option but to keep up. There was no predicting his next move. There was no chance for my mind to wander or to think of anything other than Jasper.
My body, my brain, was in a constant state of anticipation, hanging on the edge, waiting, wondering what he’d do next.
No man had ever commanded me so entirely during sex. Probably why no man had ever made me come as hard, as fast, as Jasper. He fucked like delivering pleasure was his sole purpose in life.
“Jasper.” My fingers dove into his hair as his mouth dropped to my pulse, sucking and licking a wet trail toward the hollow of my throat. Shivers erupted on my bare skin.
He cupped my breast, the entire curve fitting into the palm of his capable hands.
It was a gentle caress. His thumb traced my nipple through the lace of my bra. Then with a lightning-quick tug, the cup was yanked down and that same thumb gave the same pebbled nipple a flick.
Then came the pinch.
“Ah.” I hissed, arching into his touch.
His mouth replaced his fingers, drawing the peak of my breast past his lips. His tongue flattened. When his teeth grazed my skin, a fresh wave of desire pooled in my core.
“Yes,” I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed as I leaned into the touch.
One of my hands unthreaded from his hair, trading those dark, soft strands for the smooth fabric of his shirt. I balled it into my fist, holding tight while he tortured my nipple. I held on with all my might, keeping him in place.
“More.”
He bit me again, followed it with a hard suck, and released my nipple with a pop.
Then he trailed his mouth across my sternum, freeing the other breast to give it the same treatment.
The ache in my core felt like a jackhammer, the beat pulsing between my legs.
I shoved his shirt up his ribs, needing to feel his naked skin against my own. Needing to feel him inside me.
“Fuck me. Please.” If he stopped here, left me suffering, I’d never forgive him for it.
Jasper growled, releasing my breast. Then he took hold of my wrist, tearing my hand free from his shirt before he reached behind his head and yanked it free.
My knees quaked. God, that was sexy. I could watch that move a million times and it would never get old.
The chiseled plane of his chest was like a magnet to my hands. I flattened my palms against his pecs, roving up, down, side to side. The dusting of black hair over his heart scraped against my skin.