Sweetest Venom (Virtue #2)(18)

“Stay right there. Don’t move,” I whisper and get off the bed, closing the space between us. I kneel in front of him, place my hands on the sides of his legs and lean forward, rubbing my lips back and forth on his hardness. Lust floating in my veins, I don’t feel the pain on my knee anymore, and even if I did, I wouldn’t care.

He wraps my loose hair in his fist and forcefully pulls my head back, making me look at him. “What am I going to do with you?”

I lick my lips, that never-ending hunger for him, for his body, for what he makes me feel flaring again. I grab his rock hard erection in my hand and stroke it, raising my eyes to meet his. “Want me.” I lick the head. “Need me.”

“You’re blind, Blaire. So blind.” He bends forward and kisses me. Deeply. Senselessly. Ravenously. It isn’t a kiss. It’s a man brandishing himself on my lips and claiming them as his own.

After he pulls away, both of us breathing heavily as though we’ve run a marathon, Lawrence bites my lower lip. “Now put my cock in your mouth.”

“With pleasure.”

I’m lying on top of him, chest to chest, heart to heart. And with him still inside me, I feel him under me, inside me—everywhere. Trying to catch my breath, I push some of the long dark hair that covers his eyes to the side to better see him.

I smile. “You’re mad for wanting me. I’m a f*cking basket case.” I lean in and press my lips on his Adam’s apple, leaving a trail of kisses up his jaw.

He palms my ass, kneading the soft skin there, pressing us closer together. “Perfection bores me.”

After a few moments pass in silence, I say, “Lawrence?”

His fingers caress my naked back, the movement soothing and erotic. “Yes, Blaire?”

“Did you really notice me from across the room at The Met?”

“Yes, darling. I saw you the moment you walked into the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

“And?”

“Are you fishing for a compliment?”

I grin. “Maybe.”

He chuckles deep and low. “I saw you and thought to myself, ‘If there’s a God, please let me make love to her at least once before I die.’”

I blush. “Oh.”

“Happy now?”

“Yes.”

“And Blaire?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever repeat that you’re unworthy in my presence again,” he orders, leaving no room for a rebuttal.

I snuggle deeper into his chest, hiding a delighted smile from him. “Yes, Lawrence.”





I WAKE UP ENVELOPED in an invisible blanket of calm. The usual turmoil inside of me is missing, and in its place, there’s a quiet contentment—a peace. And I’m pretty sure it has to do with Lawrence and the acceptance that I found in his arms last night. It leaves me wanting more of him, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be this way—I don’t think I’m supposed to feel this way. Yet I can’t help but smile as the golden memory fleets across my mind.

My friend.

As I stare at the window, watching the sunlight come in, an idea takes root inside of me. Without giving myself a chance to second-guess myself, I get off the bed, dress quickly, and step out of the house. Relief washes over me when I find Tony waiting for me today. Lawrence’s Rolls Royce sparkles in the background.

“Good morning, Tony,” I say brightly, stepping down the stairs.

He moves to open the door. “Good morning, Miss Blaire.”

Upon reaching the car, I place a hand on the hood and turn to look at him conspiratorially. “Let me ask you something. Do you think Lawrence would mind terribly if I were to surprise him at work?”

His old, kind eyes sparkle with mischief. “He’d be delighted.”

Many thoughts run through my head like a train chugging along with no stop in sight as we drive across town, but I won’t allow myself to analyze their meanings—at least not right now.

Tony drops me off outside Lawrence’s headquarters. Awestruck, I stand on the pavement and stare at the massive building that houses Lawrence’s offices. Jesus Christ. Will this man ever cease to amaze me?

Uncertain, I look back and meet Tony’s encouraging smile as he mouths to go ahead and keep walking. Belatedly, it occurs to me to head back to the car and tell Tony that I’ve changed my mind, but I stay put. Wiping my hands on my jeans nervously, I begin to walk in the direction of the revolving glass doors.

Once I’m through security, I take the elevator to his floor. A pretty, vibrant receptionist greets me warmly as soon as I stand in front of the granite counter. I place my hands on the cold stone, trying to absorb my surroundings all at once. The floor to ceiling fountain wall behind her is both mesmerizing and soothing.

“Good morning. I’d like to speak with Lawren—I mean, Mr. Rothschild, please.”

“Sure.” As her open and kind gaze studies me, I want to fidget and straighten my clothes, but I don’t. “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Rothschild?”

“Uh—no. I don’t think he’s expecting me, actually. But I’m a … uh … a friend of his.”

“Not a problem, Miss …”

“Blaire. My name is Blaire.”