She moans because I’ve found that spot inside her that makes her writhe. I open my jeans and let out my cock, stroking it roughly, punishing it the way she punished herself with her books.

“Do you want to know about the man you let into your life?” I’m sharing too much, but I feel intimate licking her pussy, I feel spread open when I’m on my knees. “I want to put a baby inside you. You aren’t ready yet. I know that, and I respect you, but I want it anyway. Because then you’d be mine. You’d never leave. The same way Emily would never leave Rhys.”

Her eyes widen. “What? No.”

I flick my tongue against her clit, and she bucks her hips against my face. “Yes,” I say, my voice gravelly. God, it feels like heaven. And hell, having my secrets exposed to her.

She lets go of the chair and grabs my hair instead. Her hand tightens into a fist. The power she wields over me, it’s real. As real as anything. She could stop this, stop the sex we’re having, the game we’re playing. Instead she raises the stakes. She pushes my face against her sex and presses her hips up at the same time. I spear my tongue inside her, and she gasps, but she doesn’t lose focus. “You are nothing like him, Beau Rochester.”

I grunt. That’s enough of a disagreement, but I don’t stop pleasuring her.

Her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes are glazing over with pleasure, but she keeps fighting. “You’re a good man. And you’re mine. And I’m yours. I’m never leaving you, Beau. Never.”

On the final word, it turns into a high keening sound.

She comes against my mouth with a flex of secret muscles and a rush of wetness. I groan as my own orgasm takes over my body.

I can only fist my cock as it crashes through me, as my seed spills onto the wood floor in front of her chair like a carnal offering to a goddess.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Emily Rochester

The only thing it’s possible to focus on is Joe’s trial.

I can’t think about what happened with Mateo. Or—I’ve thought about it so many times that the argument I’m having with myself has worn thin.

I want him.

I can’t want him.

I need him to come back.

I can’t ever ask him for that.

I should go to his house.

I can’t go to his house.

I’m frustrated every time it comes to mind, which is constantly. I haven’t had a moment of peace since I asked him to leave. He said he loved me, and I asked him to leave.