Twisted (Never After #4)(80)

Her teeth sink into her lip. “Yeah, well, sue me. How did you know I was there anyway?”

“I’m a man of many talents.” I smirk, stretching out my arms and placing them behind my head.

“Humble as ever,” she says with a snort, falling back until she hits the pillow. “No wonder you had to blackmail me to be your wife, since your huge ego doesn’t leave room for anyone else.”

It’s the first time she’s said it so plainly, but I don’t mind that she did. Better for her to remind us both of that fact now, before things get even more confusing.

Still, we only have a few hours left until she sees the boy again, and the feeling that rushes through my veins and cramps up my insides makes me desperate to spend the rest of my time on the plane reminding her how much I can give her that he can’t.

I don’t focus on the reasons why I want to show her, just that I do.

Rolling over quickly, I grab her by the waist and drag her underneath my frame, my hips slipping perfectly between her thighs. “Would you like me to prove it to you?”

Her eyelids flutter and I press into her, letting her feel how hard I am and how much I’d love to sink myself inside her.

She lets out a small moan, her arms flying to wrap around my neck. “Prove to me what? That you have a big ego?”

I smirk. “That too.”

Dipping down, I run my nose along the expanse of her neck, breathing in her scent, desperation filling my veins, wanting to make the time we have here last forever.

I don’t want to give her back. Even temporarily. I’d rather keep her in this bubble we’ve created, one where she lets me touch her and I don’t hate that she’s touching me, and we can pretend, even for a little bit, that this is more than what it is.

The thought of losing this new feeling, of letting the boy have even a little piece of her makes me murderous.

“When we get to where we’re going,” I murmur into her skin, “I’m going to fuck you with my tongue until you can’t breathe.”

Her back arches and she pushes herself against me, and even through our clothes, it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. My hands glide up the sides of her body until our hands meet, and I tangle our fingers and place them above her head, pinning her in place while she grinds her pussy on my dick.

I bite the inside of my cheek, heat spreading across my abdomen and down my thighs at the way she’s working my cock, aching to rip off her clothes the way I did before and sink inside her so I can fuck her raw.

“Needy little slut,” I rasp, accenting the words with a thrust.

She whimpers, her fingers tightening around mine.

“So eager for a real man, aren’t you, wife?” I continue, my mind growing fuzzy from the pleasure.

Her legs come up and wrap around my back, dragging me down into her until we’re flush together, my body weight on hers, and our mouths sharing the same air.

“Fuck me,” she begs. “Please, Julian. I need you.”

And goddamn, I’m desperate for it.

I run my nose across hers, our lips brushing just enough to send my heart slamming against my ribs.

“Are you mine?” I ask.

She sucks in a breath, the passion that was weaving between us suddenly doused like a wet flame.

The slight hesitation is all I need to know.

The ache in my chest spreads, a sharp pain that throbs like a deep bruise.

I release her hands like they’re lava, moving from the bed and readjusting my hard-on as I walk out of the bedroom altogether.





Chapter 33





Yasmin





Ten hours on a plane and three in this Jeep with a random man driving us, and my mind still feels alert like I’ve been shot in the heart with adrenaline.

Or maybe it’s just pain.

My brain wars from one extreme to the other, split between wanting to smooth things over with Julian and reminding myself that he’s the reason everything went to shit in the first place.

And my stomach is already tied in a thousand knots from the thought of seeing Aidan again after so much has happened and figuring out who the hell this mystery texter is.

Not that I think they’ll be awake right now. It’s two in the morning wherever it is that we are, which I couldn’t tell you if you paid me to. I’ve never been to Egypt, and this trip isn’t exactly for sightseeing.

With every mile we drive, the nausea grows stronger, my legs shake faster, and the nerves in my stomach jumble a little more.

Julian’s been cold and aloof since we’ve landed.

Since he asked if I was his. Again.

And honestly, how could he ask that?

Even worse, how could I want to tell him yes?

It isn’t fair. Not when he’s taken away the choice entirely. I’m his whether I want to be or not.

And until that situation resolves, how can he expect me to figure out what’s real and what’s some fucked-up version of Stockholm syndrome?

But this Julian, this man sitting next to me with eyes like obsidian stone and a scowl that tries to turn you to ash, this is the Julian I knew as a girl.

I hadn’t realized how much he had changed with me until he flipped the switch back.

A swell of emotion surges in my chest, caught between wanting to beg him to just look at me and being thankful for the respite, because if he’s out of the equation, I won’t have to balance the way I’m confused over him with the anger I feel at the things he’s done.