"Think about all the things I'm going to do to you." His warm breath runs over my neck. I quickly find my rhythm. I rock my hips slightly on his lap while my index finger circles my swollen clitoris.
I lock eyes with him, my lips parted, my breathing quickening as I rush to find release.
"I'm going to own your pleasure. Nothing will feel as exquisite to you as coming under my direction, under my touch, under my tongue."
"Please."
"Please what?" His hands inch up my thighs pulling my desire to the surface. "Please make you feel things that no man has made you feel before?"
"Yes," I barely whisper the word. "Yes. I want that."
"You want to come."
"Yes, now." I whimper, knowing that I'm close to the edge.
"Not now. Not yet." His voice is low and melodic as he gently pulls my hand from my panties.
I stare, mesmerized as he runs my moist fingers along his lips. A low growl escapes his body.
"I need to be inside you." His hands both move to his shirt, making quick work of the buttons.
I reach for his belt, my fingers struggle to unfasten it as I tremble from within.
"Sweetheart," he says hoarsely.
Time stops. I freeze. Images of Mark pour into my mind.
"Sweetheart?" His large hands cover mine now. "Don't stop."
I look into his eyes, willing him to understand, knowing that I can't form the words to tell him to stop calling me that without my emotions spilling over.
I see a flash of frustration covered by disappointment in his face. He pushes me to my feet and stands. Breathing heavily he runs his hand through his hair. He reaches for his wine glass, swallowing the contents in a single gulp. "Fuck," he whispers under his breath.
He barely glances at me, before pushing past me to walk towards the kitchen. "You're not ready. You should have told me it was too soon."
"No. You're wrong. It's not that way. It's not too soon. It was just that..." I'm a step behind him, my emotions quickly rising to the surface.
"You're too fragile." He takes a long drink directly from the wine bottle before turning to face me. "I knew by the way you reacted yesterday when I mentioned Mark's name. I saw it again today. I shouldn't have pushed. I don't know what I was thinking."
"You're wrong." I feel the sting of tears. "I'm ready. Please let me explain."
He walks back to the coffee table and picks up my dress and my clutch. "You have no idea how badly I want this. How badly I want you. How long I've waited for you, but not yet. Not like this. Get dressed."
I tear my things from his grasp my eyes settling on his undone belt. I've never felt more embarrassed.
"I'm taking you home. I'll call for the car. Wait right here." His voice is stern and commanding.
I watch him leave the room before I bolt for the door, my hand over my mouth silencing the sobs.
Chapter 7
"I was so humiliated." I sigh as I continue, "I froze when he called me sweetheart."
Liz drops the fork holding the crisp piece of romaine lettuce destined for her mouth. "He did what?"
"I started to undo his belt. He said it and I stopped."
She motions for me to continue.
"He got up off the couch, pushed me aside and walked away." I swallow hard, hating the sound of the words.
"What did he say when you told him Mark used to call you that?"
"I didn't. He wouldn't let me get a word in. He just assumed I wasn’t ready yet."
"So you just left?" Liz quizzes.
"As fast as I could. I put my dress back on in the hallway and ran to find a taxi."
"Maybe you overreacted a bit, sugar. I mean, it's been months since Mark called you that."
I shake my head from side-to-side. "Days, not months."
"Days?" Her voice is quickly becoming the loudest in the near capacity diner. "What do you mean days?"
"When he came to get the letter, he was all sweetheart this and sweetheart that." I roll my eyes.
"How dare he still call you that? He can't call you that. It's just...it's so wrong."
I nod silently.
"So it's been three days and you've heard nothing from Jax?"
"Not a word."
"I'm sorry."
"What about Brighton?" I ask wanting to shift focus. "What's going on with you two?"
She shrugs her shoulders. "Nothing. He said he'll make a decision on the final spot in the next week."
"You'll get it, Liz." I pull a French fry through the ketchup on my plate before popping it into my mouth. "You've got to be the most talented candidate he's seen."
Liz pushes the remaining salad on her plate around with the fork. "I hope you're right."