Her sweet taste floods my senses. I push my fingers into her copper hair and tighten my fist, making it impossible for her to escape me.
Not that she’s trying to. I don’t know if it’s because I took her by surprise or because her body knows what she wants far better than her mind does, but she melts against me just like she did in the church and lets me pillage her mouth.
Her heat seeps through the fabric of my suit and sets me on fire. She feels so good in my arms. Images of her flawless body flash in front of my eyes, and my cock twitches. I press it against her thigh so that she knows exactly what she does to me.
When a maid reappears, I break the kiss and press my lips to her ear. “Your mouth is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. But I think I’ll enjoy the taste of your sweet cunt even more.”
She chokes and then extracts herself from my arms. “Keep dreaming,” she stammers, her chest rising and falling with harsh breaths. She picks up a few of the remaining bags and practically sprints upstairs. So eager to get away from me. But I have no intention of letting her go.
“Leave the rest for now,” I say to the maid.
I prowl after Cleo, enter the bedroom, and slam the door shut behind me.
She whirls around. “What are you doing?” she demands, no longer in a good mood. Her skin is still flushed from our kiss.
I take my jacket off and throw it over a chair. She notices the guns strapped to my chest and her eyes widen.
I move toward the ottoman, aka her nest, and sink down in the armchair beside it.
“You spent my money,” I say in a low voice.
Red creeps up her cheeks. She keeps looking at my guns, like she’s worried I’ll shoot her. “So you are angry. Were you holding back because we had an audience?”
I shake my head. “That black card is yours. Use it as you see fit. You are my wife, and you will never lack anything.”
The red turns deeper, and she swallows.
I spread my legs. “But you’re going to show me what I paid for.” There’s no way she bought modest dresses to impress me with her demureness. She wants to play games? Let’s see how well she does when I turn the tables on her.
“Now, Cleo,” I growl when she doesn’t move.
She glares at me but grabs a few bags and disappears inside the bathroom. When she comes out a few minutes later, my fingertips dig into the armrests.
Fuck.
She’s in a long-sleeved black dress that covers most of her, but it molds to her banging body, highlighting every curve. Her hair cascades down her shoulders, wild copper curls that nearly reach her narrow waist.
I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful. Every drop of blood in my body rushes downward.
I lean forward. “Spin around.”
She does, slowly showing me her body from every angle.
I drag my thumb over my bottom lip. “Did you buy what you’re wearing underneath too?”
She gives a jerky nod.
My fingers twitch. “Then I want to see it.”
Tension simmers between us. I challenge her with my gaze and wait to see if she’s brave enough to take off her clothes in front of me.
Again.
She did it without hesitation two nights ago, but now she doesn’t look so sure. She shifts her weight from one foot to another and blows out a breath.
I arch my brow. No?
Her gaze narrows. She reaches behind her, and the soft clicking noise of a zipper being opened pours through the room.
She moves slowly. Carefully. As if she wants to make a point that she’s not in any rush to obey my command. She pushes the dress over one shoulder, then the other. Pulls one arm out of a sleeve, then the other.
I have to hold in a groan when I see what she’s wearing underneath.
Her bra is a scrap of see-through lace. Her hard little nipples protrude through the thin fabric, and my mouth goes dry at the sight. She shimmies her hips out of the dress, lets it fall to her feet, and takes two delicate steps out of it. Her hands fall to her hips. Her expression is pure defiance.
Fuck me.
I drag my palm over my jaw and drink in her body, inch by perfect inch.
Her eyes glint with something dangerous. She glides her palms over her sides and curls her fingers over the edges of her lace panties before gently hiking them higher on her hips. “Do you like it?”
I know what she’s doing with that husky voice and those bedroom eyes.
Torturing me.
And still, I fall into her trap.
“Come here.” My voice is a rasp.
She takes a few tentative steps toward me, taking her damn time. I open my legs wider and tip my chin downward, signaling for her to stand right there. Her bare thighs brush against the fabric of my slacks.