Beautiful Bastard (Beautiful Bastard, #1)(30)

“Ben!” my father said sharply, leaving no room for argument.

I tossed my napkin onto my plate and pushed away from the table. I stormed through the house, searching the bathrooms on the first two floors, until finally reaching the third floor, where the bathroom door was closed.

Standing outside, my hand resting on the knob, I debated with myself. If I went in there, what would happen? There was only one thing I was interested in, and it sure as hell wasn’t apologizing. I thought about knocking but knew for a fact she wouldn’t invite me in. I listened carefully, waiting for any noise or sign of movement from inside. Nothing. Finally, I turned the knob, surprised to find it unlocked.

I’d only been in this bathroom a few times since my mother had remodeled it. It was a beautiful, modern room with a custom-built marble counter and a wide mirror covering one wall. Above the vanity table was a small window that overlooked the patio and grounds below. She was sitting on the padded bench in front of the table, staring out at the sky.

“Here to grovel?” she asked. She took the cap off her lipstick, which she carefully applied to her lips.

“I was sent to check on your delicate petal feelings.” I reached behind me to turn the lock on the bathroom door, the audible click ringing in the silent room.

She laughed, meeting my eyes in the mirror. She looked completely composed, but I could see the rise and fall of her chest; she was every bit as worked up as I was.

“I assure you, I’m fine.” She put the cap back on her lipstick and shoved it into her purse. She stood and started to move past me to the door. “I’m used to you being a prick. But Joel seems nice. I should get back downstairs.”




I put my hand on the door as I leaned closer to her face. “I don’t think so.” My lips lightly grazed under her ear, and she shuddered with the contact. “You see, he wants something that’s mine, and he can’t have it.”

She glared at me. “What year is it? Two? Let me go. I am not yours.”

“You might think that,” I whispered, my lips ghosting along the column of her neck. “But your body,” I said, running my hands under her skirt and pressing my hand against the damp lace between her legs, “thinks otherwise.”

Her eyes closed and she let out a low moan as my fingers moved in slow circles against her clit. “Screw you.”

“Let me,” I said into her neck.

She let out a shaky laugh, and I pushed her against the bathroom door. Grabbing each of her hands, I raised them above her head, keeping them captive in my own and bending to kiss her. I felt her struggle weakly in my grip and I shook my head, tightening my hold.

“Let me,” I repeated, pressing my hardened cock against her.

“Oh, God,” she said as her head tilted to the side, allowing me access to her neck. “We can’t do this here.”

I ran my lips down and across her collarbone to her shoulder. Shifting both of her wrists into one hand, I reached down and slowly pulled one of the ribbons holding her top together, kissing along the newly exposed skin. Moving to the other side I repeated the action and was rewarded when the bodice slipped down to reveal a white lace strapless bra. Fuck. Did this woman own anything that didn’t make me nearly come in my pants? I trailed my mouth down to her breasts while my free hand unfastened the clasp. There was no way I was missing the sight of her bare breasts this time. It opened easily and the lace fell away, revealing the vision that filled every one of my filthiest fantasies. As I took one pink nipple into my mouth, she moaned and her knees buckled slightly.

“Shhh,” I whispered against her skin.

“More,” she said. “Again.”

I lifted her and she wrapped her legs around my waist, bringing our bodies together more firmly. I released her hands and she immediately brought them up to my hair and roughly pulled me closer. Fuck, I loved it when she did that. I pushed her against the door but then realized there were too many clothes in the way; I wanted to feel the heat of her skin against my own, wanted to bury myself balls deep in her and keep her pinned to the wall until everyone had long since gone to bed.

She seemed to read my mind as her fingers moved down my sides and began frantically tugging my polo from my pants, lifting it up and over my head.

The sound of laughter outside floated up through the open window, and I felt her tense against me. A long moment passed before her eyes met mine, and it was clear she was struggling with what to say.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she said finally, shaking her head. “He’s waiting for me.” She halfheartedly tried to push me away but I held my ground.

“Do you actually want him?” I asked, feeling a wave of possessiveness boil up inside me. She held my gaze but didn’t answer.

I set her down and pulled her to the dressing table, stopping to stand just behind her. From where we stood, we had a perfect view of the patio below.

I pulled her bare back to my chest and brought my mouth to her ear. “Do you see him?” I asked, my hands sliding along her breasts. “Look at him.” I skimmed my hands down her abdomen, along her skirt and to her thighs. “Does he make you feel like this?” My fingers floated up her thigh and underneath her panties. A low hiss escaped my mouth as I felt the wetness there and pushed inside. “Would he ever make you this wet?”

She groaned and pressed her hips back into me. “No . . .”