Debt Inheritance (Indebted #1)(43)

I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know what he wanted.

He’s f*cking with your mind. That’s all he’s doing.

His thumbs stroked higher, smoothing away the bruises he’d caused on my neck. “Tell me you’re not wet for me. Say it.”

I shook my head, willing the words to come. “I’m not. I’m…”

“What?” Jethro murmured.

The ache grew stronger, sending a rush of dampness against my knickers. My body didn’t care this was a monster. My body didn’t care about the future. All it cared about was curbing the intolerable need.

Opening my heavy eyes, I said, “I’m not wet. Not for you.”

My hands balled, fighting against the thick intoxication. I couldn’t let him steal the warmth from Kite. He’d already turned the small flame into an out of control inferno, cindering my morals, turning my hatred to ash. I couldn’t fall into his web—he’d eat me alive.

But, one kiss…would it be so wrong?

To take something from him when he’d already taken so much from me?

I swayed closer, unconsciously seeking everything he dangled before me. I wasn’t equipped to play these games. I was na?ve and woefully unprepared for combat where lust was used as the weapon.

“You’re a little liar, Ms. Weaver.” He dropped one hand from my shoulders, tracing my contours until he captured my hip, the other skated upward, cupping my cheek. Every millimetre he travelled sent sparks along my skin unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

His tongue appeared, licking his lips. “You want this.” His knee nudged against mine, forcing my legs to spread. “You want something you know you shouldn’t.” With seamless authority, he pressed against me, tilting his hips into mine.

I shivered. Hating him. Lusting for him. Hating myself. Loving the forbidden rush.

The reasons for our fight flew away on soundless wings, leaving me with no argument against the swelling swollen ache.

“All that separates my cock from your * is a few fragile pieces of clothing.” He drove upward, grinding himself punishingly. “You won’t stop me.” There was no space, no secrets—our bodies glued together.

My mind went blank with sheer numbing pleasure. I felt every ridge and contour of him. From the pressure of his shoe against mine to the hot heat in his jeans growing larger every second.

You know what he intends to do. Stop this, I screamed at my betraying body. But it replied in force with a clenching ripple turning my legs to jelly.

I held my breath. His hard body was as unmovable as the wall I stood trapped against. His ripped stomach pressed against mine.

I wasn’t cushy or curvy. I had no feminine attributes—I’d exercised away any hope at softness.

But it only amplified the intensity.

There was nothing to cushion the firmness of bones and sinew and craving flesh. It was visceral. All consuming.

“Tell me again you’re not wet for me.” His hooded eyes imprisoned mine. “Tell me another lie.”

I tried to look away, but he thrust again, enticing another ripple of pleasure. I hadn’t planned on being the innocent girl. The stuck-up princess who never self-pleasured or enjoyed men. I hated that I came across priggish, uptight, and repressed. Those traits were a hazard of my upbringing, and I desperately wanted to turn them into weapons.

I wanted to use them as effortlessly as Jethro wielded his wintery charisma.

My body knew what it wanted. It wanted a release. It wanted to satiate and be sated. And it didn’t give a flying arse who granted the freedom of the mysterious orgasm. I knew who Jethro was—I knew this was all a game to him. But why couldn’t two people play? Why did I have to justify his touch as bad when it was so amazingly good?

Death was coming. Shouldn’t I try to live before I died?

Shouldn’t I embrace the lack of control by throwing away my submissive behaviour and fight for what I wanted?

For once in my life.

Be true and honest and raw.

Why can’t I use him? Just once be the bad girl and use the monster. Win by not fighting. Be stronger by giving in.

My * grew bolder, taking my unvoiced permission and growing wet, greedy, eager to experience the cock pressed firmly against me.

I…can’t.

You can.

I…won’t.

I will.

Jethro ducked, nipping my jaw with sharp teeth.

I unlocked my chastity belt, and melted into him. I arched my back, deliberately pressing my breasts against his chest.

His seduction lost the calculating edge, his breath went from calm to uneven.

Something new broke free inside. Some level of embarrassment of sex—the unapproved thoughts of being used—disappeared. I was a business woman. A daughter. A sister. The fantasies inside weren’t the thoughts of a puritan.

Deep inside, where I never let myself go, a sexual deviant lurked. A woman who was bold and angry. A woman beyond ready to admit she’d hidden so much of herself—even from herself.

Jethro’s hand moved to grab the back of my neck. His hips pulsed; his heart thudded hard, vibrating our tightly pressed forms.

I shivered in his hold, giving in completely to the clench between my legs.

“Answer me. Tell me the truth.” His mint-fresh breath fluttered my eyelashes as he hovered possessively over my lips. Only a tiny space between a tease and a kiss. Only a fraction between right and wrong.