Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
“What the…” I blinked a few times to make sure my tired mind hadn’t conjured up a mirage in the bathroom. But the blinking didn’t make the sight vanish nor did it vanquish the sweet smell of jasmine that filled the small room. “…hell,” I finished on a breathy huff.
“Ever heard of knocking?” Cash drawled.
I glanced around the bathroom before my eyes once again hit the bathtub.
A tub he was currently occupying. Thick white bubbles floated on the surface of the water leaving his perfectly muscled chest on display.
Not to mention his shoulders, throat, and stupidly handsome face.
His tattooed arm rested on the ledge of the tub.
The other was hidden under those bubbles and for a second I forgot I was pissed and wanted to know exactly where that hand was resting.
Or more to the point, on which part of his body.
Gah!
“This is my bathroom,” I told him, something he knew since it was attached to the bedroom I was staying in.
“And?”
And?
I abandoned that line of questioning and started a new one. “Why are you in here?”
His answer was to look down at the bubbles.
“Seriously, Cash, I’m not in the mood for your shit.”
“You know what would get you in the mood?” He didn’t wait for me to tell him that, after the day we’d had, there was nothing that would put me in the frame of mind to deal with his shit before he answered his own question. “A nice, hot bubble bath.”
A rush of heat flooded my veins, but it was the pulsing between my legs I was most ashamed of.
I cocked my head to the side. “Is that an invitation?”
“It’d be a tight fit, baby girl, but my lap’s free.”
Cash’s hand came off the ledge, and he patted the bubbles above said lap, making them disperse. Not enough to clear the way for me to get an eyeful of what treasure was hiding beneath, but enough to snap me out of my haze.
The man was a hard pass.
He had to be.
It didn’t matter that from the moment I’d clapped eyes on Cash Phillips, my first thought was he’d be a fun distraction.
And by fun distraction, I meant, upon first glance, I’d decided I was going to tear his clothes off and fuck him silly.
And when he opened his pretty mouth and out spewed outrageous taunts, my need to watch him fall to his knees and beg for a taste grew.
It wasn’t until I realized how much I enjoyed our banter that my desire to see him laid out before me, wearing nothing but one of his sexy smirks with his undoubtedly impressive cock on offer had died.
I didn’t fuck men I enjoyed being around or ones I respected.
Sure, I had to like them on some level—but life had taught me that like was subjective and sometimes the only thing I liked about the men who I took to my bed was their good looks.
And for a woman who had nothing to offer and who wasn’t going to stick around for a cuddle or breakfast, there was no sense in pretending otherwise.
I was who I was.
Or rather, I had been who I was.
Now I was someone different.
Which made Cash a walking, talking, sexy-as-hell temptation that I would not give into.
“Thanks, but hard—”
“Nothing’s hard yet, but hop in and we can change that.”
I really wished I was one of those women who found arrogant men a turn off. The truth of it was, the more arrogant they were the more attracted I was.
It was a character flaw.
A deep-seated need in me to bring a man to heel, and the more egotistical they were the more fun it was.
I was smart enough to know it stemmed from my daddy issues. But it went far beyond my dad being a supreme dick. One could say, my head was a fucked-up place—a shrink’s wet dream. A playground of dysfunction.
“It’s cute you think I care if mini-Cash is hard or not hard.”
His lips curled up, and thankfully I learned to brace when the corners of his mouth tipped up because the smirk that followed was pure sin and I was ready to worship at the altar of the devil just to get a taste.
“Baby girl, we both know you care.”
As if to prove his point, his hand under the water moved. The bubbles on the surface started to move, not enough to cause a ripple but enough to cause my blood to heat and my panties to dampen.
Damn him.
Now I had a point to prove.
I took a step back, leaned my ass against the vanity, crossed my arms over my chest, and on a wordless dare I lifted a brow.
That smirk became an outright million-dollar smile—which was exactly what I’d pay in another life to wake up to that smile every day.
“You think I mind you watching?” he taunted.
“No, I think you’re getting off stroking your cock while I’m standing here watching.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bubbles shift in the water but I didn’t unlock my gaze from his crystal blue eyes. The scary part was, he didn’t release my gaze either. He stared directly in my eyes while he pumped his dick under the water.
A tactical miscalculation on my part. I didn’t take into account how hot this game would be before I started it.
But I had started it. Now I had to see it to the bitter end.
“You sure you don’t want to join me?” he asked.
“Positive. But feel free to call it quits—”
“Stella, Stella, Stella,” he chanted, his raspy voice curled around each syllable making it impossible for me not to clench my inner muscles. “I don’t quit.”
If I was a different kind of woman, I’d test that promise, and if I had to beg him not to quit me. But I was a heartless, lying, scheming bitch who had no issue quitting anything or anyone.
Except Cara.
She was my new priority. She was everything. The only promise I’d ever made that I intended to keep.
“Then stroke faster, big daddy, we’ve got shit to do.”
“Keep running that mouth of yours, Stella, and I’ll find a way to gag you.”
My eyes transferred to the water now rippling. “And what? You think you have what it takes to—” My goading died in my throat when Cash surged up, water and bubbles cascading over his tanned, taut skin, and onto the tile floor.
And there he was in his glory. Though glory didn’t begin to describe the magnificence of all that was Cash—all hard peaks and valleys. Lean, compact muscle, tattooed, long thick cock, and…pierced.
I had yet to finish my blatant perusal when he stepped out of the tub.
I was still struck stupid by the size of his perfectly formed dick when he took a step closer.
And nowhere near finished processing the hoop pierced through his cockhead or the barbell on his shaft when I lost sight of the object of my fascination because he was now inches away from me.
With a long arm, he reached for the door and closed it.
The lock turned and that hand went to my hip.
“You’re lucky.” His gravelly rasp coupled with his fingertips digging into my side made me shiver. “I’ve decided I like it when you run your mouth.” Before I could utter my comeback he continued, “Now, be a good girl and turn around for daddy.”
“Did you really just—”
The playfulness blinked out of his blue eyes. “Now, Stella, turn and face the mirror.”
It was the harshness in his tone that had me obeying.
Oh yeah, my head needed to be examined.
With his erection pressing against my lower back, Cash wasted no time reaching around me to unbutton my jeans.
In one swift movement, he yanked them down over my ass.
I felt his hand lift mine off the vanity but I was too mesmerized by the sight before me to pay attention to what he was doing until I felt my palm on my stomach.
My gaze drifted down from studying our reflection, the way he towered over me making me feel small.
Something I never felt standing next to a man—what I lacked in stature I made up for in attitude.
The way his fair complexion contrasted with my olive skin.
His blond to my brown hair. His light to my dark-blue eyes.
We were opposites in every way, yet he fit me.
We fit.
Fear chased away the desire.
“Cash—”
He dipped his head bringing his mouth to my ear. “Watch.”
For some stupid reason, I watched.
Cash pushed our combined hands under the black silk of my panties, shifting his hand so it was over top of mine. He pressed my middle finger over my clit.
My hips jerked.
Cash growled.
And why was that the hottest thing I’d ever heard?
The fear that had crept in, the panic that another man had never even microscopically inched his way past my defenses like Cash had and was continuing to do faded when I felt his knuckles skim my ass as he pumped his cock.
It receded completely when he grunted, “I’m close, Stella. I want you there before me.”
If I was meant to do something, Cash didn’t give me the chance. His finger over mine was in control. He pressed, circled, rubbed, and my body obeyed with shocking speed.
In the mirror I watched Cash toy with my clit using my hand as my instrument of pleasure.
“Cash,” I panted, reaching out with my free hand to brace myself as my knees wobbled.
Wobbly knees, what the fuck was wrong with me? My knees didn’t get weak for a man.
“Hm,” he hummed against my neck. “Come for me, baby girl.”
His hand picked up speed. I felt his breath fanning over my skin.
I heard his harsh breathing. I tilted my head to the side.
Cash didn’t delay accepting my wordless invitation and clamped his teeth down on the sensitive tendon.
The pain detonated my orgasm. My mind blanked of every thought, every worry, all the stress, responsibility, stupid decisions, and for a few blissful moments pure ecstasy washed over me.
I groaned my release. Cash’s eyes tipped up and caught mine in the mirror.
Unfocused, hungry eyes that prologued my euphoria.
I knew when Cash’s orgasm pulled him under.
It wasn’t the hot splash of his come hitting my ass, nor was it the shiver that rolled through his big body.
It was the way his eyes rolled up into his lids for a moment before he quickly recovered and slipped his arrogant Cash is King mask into place.
But I saw it, the split second when his body’s biological response was such that he had no control.
The fucked-up place in my head craved that—having the power to strip a man of his control.
But deep down in a place I’d never expose, what I longed for more than anything was for a man to strip me of my power, to bathe me in his control, to allow me to be free, to blanket me with his protection. But that involved trust. And I trusted no one.
As soon as the pleasure ebbed, regret slunk in.
The fire I’d been playing with burned me, leaving me with painful blisters of defeat. And there were few things I hated more than losing.
Cash held my eyes as he released his teeth, kept staring at me while he lashed his tongue over the bite mark, and smiled his victory.
Dick.
“You done?” I snarked.
“No, baby girl, we haven’t even started.”
“You’re right, we haven’t and we never will,” I told him and yanked my hand out from under his.
With my chin tipped up, I mustered up what was left of my self-respect and hiked up my jeans, smearing his release into the fabric.
I’d wash him off later, for now I stupidly wanted him with me. Not as a souvenir or some silly notion of ownership. He wasn’t mine and I sure as hell wasn’t his. But as a reminder of my failure.
Once my jeans were buttoned, I nudged him back with my ass and slipped out from between him and the vanity to make my exit.
With the door ajar I glanced over my shoulder, taking my final look at Cash beautifully naked. Once I had the sight committed to memory I demanded, “Clean up the floor before you go.”
Those lips…gorgeous, full lips I’d felt on my neck, the ones I wished he would’ve kissed me with, curled up. I didn’t bother preparing for what was next, I let his smile singe what was left of me.
“Not even going to thank me for the orgasm?”
“What orgasm?”
His smile widened and for a split second I allowed myself to wonder what it would be like to own that smile, to be his, and in return he would be mine.
“See ya around, baby girl.”
Baby girl.
Ugh.
I didn’t bother correcting him or issuing threats we both knew were meaningless.
He knew he won.
Which meant I’d lost.
At least he wasn’t an asshole winner and let me leave without rubbing it in. Though I was leaving with his come drying on my skin, so he didn’t have to rub anything in.
I’d done it for him.