Chapter 20
Delaney
My throat is dry, my mouth hanging open to pull more air into my lungs.
With the warmth of the water and the heat of my connection with Warner, I’ve stopped caring that strands of hair are stuck to the sides of my face. That my heated cheeks are probably flaming pink and my lips swollen from scraping across the scruff of his jawline.
Reaching up, he gently rubs the pad of his thumb under one of my eyes and the tip of his finger under the other. He slides his hand to the nape of my neck, bringing me in to kiss again.
It didn’t take much to open Pandora’s box.
Now that we have, there’s no closing it.
This feels too good. He turns me on too much.
My head spins along with my heart, and I stop fighting the pull to him.
Giving up control, the upper hand, and trying to think five steps ahead vanished after the first kiss.
It’s fun to feel this free, to feel this me again.
Gripping the sides of the bathtub, I drop my head next to his as I rock against his erection. Shameless and carefree. His breathing has deepened, and words are huskier in my ear. I need more—more of everything with this man.
When his fingers tease my clit, I buck, causing the water to splash against the edge of the porcelain. I don’t care about making a mess, but I know Warner will. My words are jagged as I drag my eyes to latch onto his again. “We should get out.”
“Not until you come.” There’s such authority to his tone that I find myself drawing a breath as his hand dips under the water and slides between our bodies.
A tease of my clit causes me to shift down and harder.
His fingers arouse me before one slides further to toy with my entrance.
With his eyes still set on mine, he doesn’t ask for permission, but I give it by rocking against his hand.
The starting gun ignites, my entire being needing completion as I race toward a finish line I don’t want to cross. Why can’t I feel this good forever? It’s not even a pause, but I find myself already begging, “Don’t stop.”
“I’m not stopping, Sass.” The smile that embeds into my heart has me wanting to stare at him all night. “Not until you come for me.”
“I can do that.”
“Yeah, you can,” he says playfully. I could almost mistake that shine in his eyes for love if I’m not careful. I’m not that foolish to think someone like him would fall so fast for someone like me. We’re from different worlds. Fire and ice. Even oil and water at times. I prefer cloak and dagger.
I lower my head, focusing on the hunger blooming in my belly instead of the jagged breaths ringing in my ears from a constricting throat.
Resituating on his hand, I push onto him, his finger diving into my depths and causing my head to fall back, my mouth to open, and a moan to escape my chest. He pulls back out, but just enough to keep the connection that I’m struggling to hold on to. Too much all at once.
“You turn me on so fucking much. I can’t wait to fuck you properly.” His breathing is just as hard as mine, his tone gravelly and not the one I’m used to. The eyes that would devour me whole if he could, motivate me to drive faster toward relief.
I only close my eyes for a second to find myself at the precipice of what comes next—the descent into darkness and bliss in the light.
His fingers never stop the circular teasing that’s putting me into a tailspin.
I grip the tub to help hold my weight as I rock back and forth, up and down, right side up and left side down.
He consumes my every thought, my body conforming to his as I start to lose myself under the weight of what’s to come.
“God, I want this. So much.” I try to focus on him, but it’s impossible when they’re rolling back in my head. “Feels too good, Warner.”
“No such thing.” I’m in no position to argue with the man who’s about to send me to heaven and back again.
I’ll just let him work his magic . . . fingers.
The water splashes around me as I rise and fall, over and again as he pushes me to the edge and pulls me back again.
I’m so close I can already imagine the aftermath.
The bliss. The calm. The reward of falling asleep in his arms. I want it. I want all of that. So much.
When he’s deep inside, his palm presses against my clit. I grind against him, embracing the fall. I don’t feel my breath or an ache in my lungs. I’m free from the burdens of pretending and liberated from the past few days. I welcome this feeling and the aftermath.
With the side of my head pressed to his, I whisper, “Why are you so good at that?”
He chuckles, his finger still inside me, which sends another wave of pleasure through me. “Hidden talent.”
“I like that it’s hidden.” I sit up. “Except from me.” I lean forward to kiss him. My breathing is still uneven when I pull back. “How about we finish this in bed?”
“Is that an invitation, Sass?”
“To your own bed?” I lift to my feet, but I instantly hate how empty I feel without him. Offering his hand for assistance, I step out of the tub and grab a towel hanging from a hook nearby. “You got the golden ticket, Hotshot.”
He stands, careful to step out, and reaches for the other towel. “Our bed.”
I stop my hands as my mind races through how to fix the mistake I just made. Nothing believable comes to mind, so I choose confrontation. “Of course it is, silly.” I laugh, but let it die off quickly.
Warner is always on top of things, waiting for the slipup to happen so he can study my expression and judge my reaction. It’s a lose-lose situation with him. He sees through the obvious, so I now stick to being vague when possible.
He replies, “Yeah, of course,” as if I had asked a question. When he’s dry, he comes to wrap himself around the back of me and kisses my head. “How are you feeling?”
With the sexual heat between us cooling, I cover his arms with mine, holding him as I lean the back of my head against his chest. Closing my eyes, I savor this moment before everything changes, knowing we’re close to the truth coming out.
I have no next steps planned. Nothing to trick him into prolonging this charade.
I asked for the money against my better judgment and left myself open for the blowback.
I don’t want to do that again. I don’t want to ask him for money.
I don’t want to need it. I want him to realize the mistake he’s making and fix it.
And if he doesn’t stop or can’t end the contract, I need to show him the benefits of spending his money where it matters most. To me, anyway.
That’s it. I need to show him.
“Warner?”
“Hmm?” He hums against my neck and then kisses it.
“My family has dinner together every Sunday . . .” I wait for a stiffening of his body behind me or a sigh of discontent.
Neither happens. His muscles are strong but pliable around me, his heart not skipping a beat, his breathing stays regulated as if this idea might not be so far-fetched.
“As you know.” Damn, almost forgot to tack that on.
The climax has turned my brain to jelly.
Releasing me, he comes around to the front with a big ole grin on his face like he just won the local bake-off. “Two invitations in one night? I think your orgasm has gone to your heart.” Geez. Even he’s noticed.
I smile like a fool for him. I am, so it comes naturally. “Don’t worry. It will wear off soon enough, and then you’ll have the crankier version of me back.”
“I don’t consider you cranky, Delaney.” He caresses my cheek and then kisses it. “Stubborn and feisty, absolutely.” Tapping my nose, he adds, “Oh, and I accept both. Dinner with your folks, and to finish what we started here out there.” He opens the door and walks out, leaving me a bit stunned.
That wasn’t a formal invite to dinner. I was kind of just telling him why I would be gone tonight. But now I’m bringing my fake husband to the restaurant. Lord, help me. There’s no getting out of it without hurting his feelings though, so I guess Warner Landers is about to meet my family.
When I enter the bedroom, he’s already in bed with his arms behind his head. A smug smirk shapes his expression, and the covers are already tenting. “Looks like you got started before me.”
“No, this is in anticipation of how amazing it’s going to feel being inside you.”
I drop the towel, but just when I lift my knee to climb onto the bed, I realize that leaving a wet towel on his pristine carpet is going to bother him.
That’s usually a highlight for me, but we’re about to be together for the first time.
I don’t want him thinking about wet towels on the carpet. I want him to think about me.
After picking up the towel, I go into the bathroom and push it down into the hamper. I return to see him grinning even wider. “Gloating?” I ask.
“Might be.” He flips the comforter open for me so I can crawl into the bed and under the covers.
I slide up right next to him. I feel so alive being naked with him.
The way he looks at me like I’m something to be admired causes goose bumps to erupt over my arms. His eyes drinking me like a man who’s dying of thirst is an aphrodisiac.
I don’t feel shy with Warner. I don’t feel ashamed like I’m doing anything wrong.
I kiss him because everything is right when we’re like this.
Sliding onto him, our lips stay attached as I position myself.
It would be easy to have him slip into me, his thickness stretching me to accommodate him and only him.
I don’t, but he has my walls lowered to the ground, so I wouldn’t say no.
Our lips find purchase just as his hand slides around the back of me. He sits up with me straddling him, rubbing myself over his erection. Plucking his lips from mine, he whispers, “The condoms are in the nightstand.”