“Then the ten million in alimony is entirely out of the question,” I whisper.
“I can’t not give you anything. It’d be grossly unfair. And your fancy lawyer’s going to object. Mark my words.”
“I’m a modern woman. I can earn my own money.”
“Modern, huh?” His gaze drops to my mouth…then to my cleavage, where my grandmother’s pendant rests. He makes eye contact with me. “Since you seem so set against money, how about something else?”
“Like what? Property? Stock options? It’s the sa—”
“Sexual pleasure.”
My lips part, but nothing comes out of my mouth. His thumb brushes over my wrist. My pulse leaps, the air in my lungs shudders.
It’s the last thing I expected him to say.
“Sex has been used for payment for a long time…although, traditionally, it’s been women providing it to men. But hey, like you said…it’s modern times.”
“Are you talking about having intercourse with me?” I force a laugh—and it is forced, because hot anticipation is making it hard to breathe. “Sounds like it’s more about you than me.”
“If that’s what gives you pleasure, sure, but otherwise no. I said sexual pleasure, Paige. It’s all about you.”
I’m so tempted. It’s like he’s offering some kind of Faustian, all-you-can-eat sex cupcakes. And this time, they’re not behind some shop window. No barriers between us at all, just this stunning specimen of man wanting to pleasure me in any way I want.
Except it’s crazy.
Needing some distance, I break eye contact. My gaze falls on the prenup on the table. “Are you going to put that in there?” I ask, my mouth on auto-pilot, as my face flames at the idea.
“No.” Ryder presses his mouth against my neck, his lips searingly hot. “Unless you want to?”
My eyes roll up toward the ceiling. “No,” I whisper breathlessly.
A finger traces my spine, sending tingles all the way to the tips of my toes. I can’t think when he does that, when he moves his mouth against the pulse at my neck.
I dig my hands into his hair. My body’s primed from pent-up need, and I crave him like an alcoholic craves a drink.
He traces every line, every curve on my body—from the base of my skull, down my back, shoulders and arms and waist and thighs…all the way down to my ankles. He doesn’t just focus on the usual erogenous suspects. No, he purposely goes around them, trying to discover other, less obvious—but still oh so good—spots.
I suddenly feel completely, vibrantly alive. I never knew I had so many sensitive places on my body.
Everywhere he touches, there is a jolt of electricity that ends between my legs. Restlessness prickles along my skin, and I angle my face so I can kiss him, devour him the way I need to. I gasp when his fingers brush against the delicate skin behind my knees. He pulls back, gives me a devilish smile and takes one of my hands. Spreading my fingers, he lowers his head and licks the webbing between my middle and ring finger. His eyes never leave mine.
My nipples tighten and become two sharp points. They ache, and I realize in the back of my mind that it’s been a long time since they’ve been loved. A shame too, since I think they’re my best assets.
Ryder runs his large hands up my sides. My heart beats in an erratic staccato. He’s so close…so close…
My breasts grow heavy and tingle until they almost hurt.
Finally he closes his hand over one. His mouth muffles my throaty groan. The pleasure sizzling through my body seems to push out all the air in my lungs. I’m light-headed, drunk on sensory delight.
I arch my back, begging for more.
His palm is hot even through my bra and top. I resent them for getting in the way. I want to feel his bare skin there as he fondles the bountiful flesh. His thumb brushes over my beaded nipple, and I bite my lip to contain a cry.
“You’re so sensitive.” Ryder’s hot murmur caresses my ear.
“Please,” I whisper, clutching him.
He can give me so much more than this. Anticipation thickens my blood.
“We should make you come before Samantha returns.”
The mention of the infamous attorney yanks me out of my sensual haze. But it takes no time at all before I’m sucked back in because he glides his hand between my legs. He breathes out roughly as his fingers graze over my panties. They’re soaked through.
“Fuck, you’re hot.”
Somehow, his finger finds just the right spot. He circles it. I see stars, and air shudders in my lungs and throat.
He pulls my panties off me, his hands jerky and impatient. I don’t care. Desire cuts into me painfully, and only he can give me the relief I desperately need.