Page 37 of Bitter Confessions

He must have remembered what her German curse meant, because his laughter echoed back to her.

CHAPTER 9

Jasmine perched in the kitchen window seat of Roth’s penthouse at 432 Park Avenue, with both hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. It was hours before sunrise, but she was wide-awake. Not by choice. Part of it was due to her internal clock being off from spending three weeks in Europe. The other part was Roth. She’d awoken feeling as if her boob were on fire. She was days away from her period, so her nipples were hella sensitive—something she’d mentioned on the flight back to New York when he kept feeling her up. Apparently, he’d seen that as an invitation, not a rejection. This morning, he’d held her down while paying homage and driven her crazy. Had any woman ever gotten off from having her nipples played with? She never had, but twenty minutes ago, she’d come pretty damn close.

She heard him coming before he entered the kitchen. His hair and beard were damp from his shower. He was dressed for the office in a slate-gray suit, with a matching overcoat that made him appear even larger than he already was. No matter how sophisticated his clothing, Roth always looked more like a gangster than a businessman.

He came straight to her, taking the cup from her hand and setting it aside before tipping up her face and kissing her deeply. Her heart literally fluttered.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

One eyebrow arched. “You thought I was going to sleep through you sucking on my boobs?”

His beard twitched as his mouth crooked in a half-smile she was becoming accustomed to seeing. “I thought you’d go back to sleep after I made you come. It’s three in the morning.”

“You’re up,” she pointed out.

“I’m always up. I worked out and was going to take a shower when I saw you with your nightgown hiked up around your waist and your breast out. I couldn’t resist.”

“You could have.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

She hissed when his hand dropped to her chest and kneaded. “Will you stop playing with my boobs?”

“No,” he said again, tucking his face against her neck and inhaling. “You smell like me.”

“I’ll shower after you leave.”

“You should have joined me.”

“I needed coffee.”

He grunted and gave her another kiss before nabbing her coffee and taking a sip.

“You never learn,” she chided when he grimaced.

She took her cup back and settled it on her thigh as he went to the coffee pot and downed a cup in two gulps. When he caught her wide-eyed stare, he shrugged.

“I have to run.” He cast a distracted look over the kitchen island.

She had to admit, it looked a mess with her notebooks, pens, external hard drive, cords, and laptop scattered over it.

“You need an office,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

“Pick a room. An interior designer can help you decorate.”

Her fingers tightened around her cup. “I don’t need an office.”

He pulled out his phone. “I’ll have Sarai send you samples of designers’ work.”

“Roth.”

“What?” he said absently as he scrolled on his phone.

“It’s Thanksgiving.”

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