by Gemma James
On Friday afternoon, I let my team off early with the expectation of a full weekend ahead. They deserve some time off after the hard work they’ve put in, but I also have an ulterior motive.
A hot bubble bath. A private, hot bubble bath.
With so little privacy, let alone dignity, indulging in long and luxurious baths are a thing of the past, because Miles can walk in at any moment.
And he has.
During my quick showers.
In the morning when I style my hair and apply makeup.
Even when I’m on the toilet.
The man has no respect for personal boundaries, not that I’m surprised. But today, he’s attending meetings outside the tower, so I sink into the suds, surrounded by the ambience of candlelight. As the steam rises, I let out a satisfied sigh and let my head lull, eyes drifting shut.
Heaven.
I’m so relaxed that I fall into a peaceful doze. At some point, a stir in the air brings me back to consciousness, and when I open my eyes, Miles is standing at the edge of the tub.
Just standing there naked, his caged cock at eye level as he watches me bathe.
With a yelp, I lurch upright, sloshing water over the rim, and palm my breasts. “Where’d you come from?” I ask, voice high-pitched.
“Did you forget that I live here?” Even in the dim light, the amused slant of his mouth is more than evident.
“I thought I had the house to myself.”
“I have another meeting in an hour, but I wanted to check on you.” He tilts his head. “If you wanted some alone time in the bath, all you had to do was ask.” His attention stalls on the bubbles. “Though I can’t say I’m not happy I caught you like this.” With a gentle press of his hand on my shoulder, he urges me back into a reclining position.
Immediately, my eyes go to his cock. I’ve never seen his so close before. “Does it hurt?” It’s a question I wish I hadn’t voiced, but now that it’s out there, I’m too curious to pull it back.
“No,” he says with a smirk. “Not to say it isn’t uncomfortable at times.” He strokes the stainless steel rings with this thumb, strumming the chastity cage like a guitar. “You can touch it if you want to.”
I shake my head. “That’s not necessary.”
“We’re not talking about necessity. We’re talking about want.” Crouching into a kneeling position at the side of the tub, he stares at my pressed-together knees. “Spread your legs.”
“Why?”
Stupid question, Novalee.
This is what I’ve been dreading.
“You’re an intelligent woman,” he says. “I’m sure you know the answer to that question.”
This is the cost of making a deal with Miles Sinclair, and as I part my knees, disgust rises in my throat, burning like regurgitated self-loathing. “Just get it over with.”
Candlelight flickers across his blond features, and I detect a faint smile pulling at his wide mouth. His eyes connect with mine as he reaches into the warm bath water. The bubbles swirl, and at the first touch of his fingers on my thigh, I close my eyes.
And I pretend.
Suddenly, those fingers don’t belong to Miles. In my mind, Sebastian’s hand slowly inches up my thigh. His finger traces the line of my groin, teasing the edges of my sex, and a twinge of need radiates from the center of my womanhood.
“I won’t touch you there unless you beg for it,” Miles says, his voice so low and raspy that I almost convince myself Sebastian is the one speaking to me.
Caressing me.
Asking me to beg for his touch.
It’s such a Sebastian thing to do, but no matter how much those fingers tempt me into wanting more, my heart tricking me into spinning a fantasy in my head, reality is much too real. There’s no avoiding whose house I’m in. I lift my lids and find Miles’ contemplative stare on me.
“Who were you dreaming about when you had that wet dream last week?”
“Sebastian,” I answer without hesitation, his name thick in my throat.
“You were thinking of him just now, weren’t you?”
“Does it bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me.”
“Why? You barely know me.”
“It bothers me because you could be my wife soon.” He frowns. “Trust and fidelity are important to me, Novalee. I don’t want you dreaming of anyone else, and when I touch you, I sure as hell don’t want you thinking of someone else.”
“You have my dubious consent to touch me. Seems only fair that my fidelity should be just as questionable.”
He grips my thigh, fingers digging painfully into my flesh. “You have my key, and therefore, my faithfulness. I won’t tolerate any less from you, my queen.”
“I’m sorry to inform you, but I don’t want your key or anything that comes with it.”
Withdrawing his hand from my leg, he stands. “You won’t give me a chance, will you?”
“I believe in giving people chances, but that’s not what you asked for. You demanded my submission just like every other man in this place.”
“And yet you make an exception for Sebastian.”
“I never said I made an exception for him.”
“You didn’t have to. You dreamed about him, and you were thinking about him just now.” He nods toward the disintegrating bubbles between my knees. “I’d call that an exception.”
“The only exception is that Sebastian never forced me into anything.”
Miles raises a brow. “Did he not manipulate the situation to get your anal virginity?”
Boldly, I hold his gaze. “He didn’t force himself on me, if that’s what you think.”
“So you wanted him.” Dawning realization crosses his features, and there’s not a hint of question in his words. “I thought you were caught up in lust, but you reciprocate his affection.”
“Can I get out now?” I ask, ignoring his accurate deduction.
He moves to the side. “Of course.”
I step out of the tub and wrap my body in a plush bath sheet, and that’s when he sets a warm hand on my shoulder.
“I’ve tried to be patient with you, my queen. I’m not sure what else you want from me.”
“Clothing would be nice.”
“You’re not the only one naked here.” He waves a hand toward his own nudity. “My only intention was to create a bond between us.”
“You could have spent time getting to know me,” I point out. “Instead, you strong-armed me into every decision, all the while expecting me to grow fond of you.”
His actions confuse me, because even Heath Bordeaux didn’t attempt to make me like him. Miles has undermined his own cause at every turn, and I don’t think he even realizes it. I step past him, but his conciliatory tone halts me.
“This is how we’ve always done things in the House of Virgo. It’s our foundation.”
“Maybe you should rethink that foundation.” I glance at him from over my shoulder. “Trust and fidelity can’t be built through coercion.”
“If not coercion, then what do you suggest?”
“Mutual respect.”
Except it’s an idea he doesn’t believe in. As I stride out of the bathroom, his silence doesn’t offer me much hope for change.
11
Maybe I underestimated Miles Sinclair. Since our conversation in the bathroom, he’s gone out of his way to treat me better. Though he still won’t allow clothing in his house, he’s now sleeping in the other bed, and he hasn’t touched me beyond a graze on my cheek, or a gentle hand on the small of my back.
He claims he wants to prove his pure intentions and respect for me, though I’m uncertain he knows the true meaning of either. But one thing is certain—Miles has changed direction these past few days. It’s a minuscule behavioral shift, but it’s as tangible as the way my insides ache for another man.
The always-present thoughts of Sebastian alters my own behavior, and instead of strolling along the cliffs, like I do most days after lunch
, I head for the gazebo. I miss him with the searing burn of a million suns.
His rare smile.
The way he looks at me.
How he’s vulnerable with no one else.
His absence amplifies the agony of our last minutes alone together, because he’s not here to dispel the creeping doubt that plagues my soul. He’s not here to hold me when I need it most. It doesn’t help that the memory of us haunts my dreams, from the storybook cottage on the beach to the forceful anal sex on the elevator floor. Even worse, the closed door of his studio assaults me with the silence behind it every time I pass by.
Why haven’t I spotted him even once since the day we spoke with Elise as our chaperone?
Perhaps I’m a masochist for heartbreak, because as I approach the gazebo, with its stone pillars overwhelming in sheer size, an undeniable ache thickens my throat. I almost turn and run in the opposite direction, overcome with his absence the way one grieves for a loved one who’s passed.
The ache in my chest is that strong.
Somehow, my feet carry me up the stairs, and I fail to breathe when I realize I’m not alone. He’s standing at the far end, as still as the pillars surrounding us. Stonewashed faded jeans complement his white T-shirt, though I’d expect him to wear black to match the aura cloaking him.
I can feel his dark mood from where I stand, soundless and frozen in time.
As if sensing my presence, he turns to face me. “You shouldn’t be here.” With a slow blink, he licks his lips.
I’m transfixed, my gaze stuck on that devious mouth as I think how soft those lips felt on mine. How wet and hot that sinful tongue was on my most intimate place.
With much difficulty, I drag my attention to his eyes. “Where have you been?” It’s the first thing out of my mouth, and I’m not sure why. Maybe because asking anything else will create a minefield.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been working in my studio, but I haven’t seen you at all.”
“I took a break from work,” he says.
“Why?”
He runs a hand through his messy hair. “Because I didn’t want to see you.” The words tumble out with harsh candidness, and his confession slams against my chest, making breathing impossible.
“Did you change your mind?” I choke out.
His brows furrow. “About what?”
“About us…raising your child with me…all of it.”
“Fuck no.” He crosses the gazebo before coming to an abrupt stop.
So close but still frustratingly out of reach.
“Then why didn’t you want to see me?” My aching heartbeat drums in my ears, and I blink away the moisture in my eyes. “I’ve missed you…so much.”
“Jesus, don’t cry.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he gazes at the stone floor under our feet. “I didn’t want to see you because I’m terrified I won’t be able to control this…this…” Trailing off, he raises his head.
“Control what?”
“This fucking need between us!” With a growl, he turns away, sinking both hands in his hair. “Whenever I’m near you, it just rages, Novalee. You consume every fucking thought, and I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next six months.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, unsure of what else to say because I feel the same.
“Don’t be sorry, princess. I live for wanting you.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “I lie in bed every night with the scent of your hair in my nose, jerking off to memories of you, and then I feel sick to my stomach because I can’t stop wondering if he’s touching you the way I did.”
“He’s not touching me at all.” I step forward and place a trembling hand on his back.
His muscles stiffen under my palm. “We can’t.”
My brain agrees with him, but my body has other ideas, because this isolated setting—coupled with the time we’ve been apart with no proper goodbye—is a recipe for disaster.
And yet…welcoming such disaster promises an addictive sweetness only he can give me.
“No one touches me like you do,” I say, reaching around his torso, my hand aiming for his zipper. He’s semi hard, but the second I cover his cock, he turns to steel under my palm. With a sucked in breath, he turns and has me pinned against a pillar, both wrists held above my head.
“No, baby.” His eyes burn with need as they lower to my lips. “We can’t.”
“Kiss me,” I say, ignoring the resistance in his expression. “I need you.”
My choked plea siphons the fight from his bones. Second by second, he relaxes into me, letting go of my wrists to cradle my face. With a shaky exhale, he parts his lips as our foreheads meet.
“No one’s needed me like you,” he says, his voice low and raspy and utterly sexy. The promise of his kiss electrifies the air between us.
“Please.” I arch my neck, thirsting for the taste of him. The world around us dims until nothing exists but him and me.
“Shit.” His mouth presses on mine, tongue darting between my lips, and I open for him, letting his kiss invade my soul. He yanks on my hair, fingers rough and desperate, and whatever fight he had left dies in the tatters of propriety. I moan into his mouth, eliciting a matching sound of desire as he thrusts his erection against me.
Arousal builds, heating my thighs, tingling down my legs. I grow wet and achy, my pussy throbbing. Nipples hardening.
And that’s when I remember the device.
“Sebastian—” His kiss eats up my feeble resistance, and I grip his shirt, thinking to myself that five more seconds won’t hurt anyone before I push him away.
Stop…no…don’t ever stop.
I’m powerless, and his body is incredible against mine—like a shock that brings me to life again. His cock rubs me through my panties, his hot hands on my ass, tugging me closer as we grind through our clothing. I’ve never wanted to be naked as much as I do now.
“Novalee,” he groans against my lips. “We have to stop.”
He’s right, but I can’t help but whimper as he breaks the kiss. I’m tempted to chase those lips anyway, teasing them back onto my own, but he lets go of my ass and engulfs me in his arms, his face buried in my shoulder.
“This isn’t fair.” My chest heaves against his, our breaths coming fast and hard.
“Six months, princess. I know it seems like forever, but the time will fly.”
“Pax is next,” I say, my voice cracking. Nausea rises, and I tighten my grip on him. “He terrifies me.”
“Landon’s working on something. You don’t need to worry about Pax.”
“What do you mean?” I pull back and meet his gaze. “What’s he working on?”
“I don’t know all the details, but there’s no way he’s going to let you go to that monster.” He clenches his jaw. “Castle won’t let it happen, either.” At the reminder of the chancellor, he untangles himself from me, and we break apart completely.
The space between us crackles with need, on the verge of igniting once again. To keep my hands off of him, I open my mouth to question him further, and that’s when his eyes widen, settling on something over my shoulder. I whirl around, and the breath whooshes from my lungs.
Miles is standing at the bottom of the steps, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, his mouth a stern line of displeasure. “In the library, now.” His gaze swings between Sebastian and me. “The both of you.”
“Let me explain,” I say, desperation straining my tone.
“You can explain it to the chancellor.”
12
Furious and rhythmic footfalls, a collision of guilt and rebellion, and damp eyes accompanying a flushed face—that’s the scene greeting Liam when he enters the library fifteen minutes later. His deep brown gaze sweeps over each of us, assessing the unsettling picture the three of us create.
Miles pacing in front of the windows, his features twisted into a perpetual scowl.
Sebastian leaning against the opposite wall with his arms folded over a br
oad cotton-clad chest.
And me, curled up in a chair as I blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
“What’s going on?” Liam asks.
Neither Sebastian nor Miles abandon their chosen posts, though my keeper doesn’t hesitate to speak his mind.
“Tell him, my queen.” He’s never addressed me with such scorn before. “Tell the chancellor what you did.”
Liam focuses on me, studying my face for answers, and it only takes three seconds before his complexion pales.
“Tell him!” Miles shouts upon my silence.
Liam shakes his head. “She doesn’t have to explain.” With a hard swallow, he glares at Sebastian. “It’s obvious what’s happened.”
Miles stops pacing, his stance exuding prideful righteousness as he clasps his hands behind his back. “Summon the Brotherhood.”
“I need to talk to the queen first.” Liam clears his throat. “And Sebastian.”
Miles waves a hand in the air. “Talk all you want.”
“Alone.”
“Absolutely not.”
“If you want to proceed with a summons, then you need to give me five minutes to ascertain the details.”
Miles presses his lips together, seemingly on the cusp of digging in his heels.
“I caught them in an embrace.” He gives the chancellor a pointed look. “He touched her in ways that brought on a level of arousal that can’t be ignored.”
The device. That’s how he knows…possibly even how he knew where to find me.
I lower my head, shame crawling up my neck, because all it took was a heated kiss and a little contact through our clothing to get me going. Sebastian’s had that effect on me since we met.
“You’ll get your summons,” Liam says. “Now leave us.”
“Very well then, Chancellor.” Disproval drips from his words. “I’ll wait in the hall.”
I don’t dare look at Miles as he strides from the room. The door slams upon his abrupt exit, and Liam has Sebastian pinned to the wall seconds later, his hand around his throat.
