Page 70 of Wreck Me

‘Come with me,’ she begs, her gaze falling to my throbbing cock.

Her core clenches on my fingers in a vice-like grip as she shatters on my hand, and when she cries out my name I follow suit, spiralling into my own earth-shattering release.

She buries her face in my chest, nuzzling into me, and inhaling deeply. ‘We made a mess.’ She eyes the spot on her thigh where the proof of my pleasure soaks her skin.

‘It was worth it.’ I slide my fingers out of her centre and clean them with my tongue.

Her finger swipes across her thighs and she brings it to her mouth.

Yep, definite marriage material.

I am royally fucked.

Because while I think she’s wife material, my father will never agree, not if he were to discover the truth about Scarlett’s pole dancing past, at least.

‘Will you come to bed with me?’ The earnest vulnerability in Scarlett’s tone cracks my chest wide open. ‘Just for a cuddle. I promise I won’t try to jump on you in the night.’

I hope I can promise the same thing. Drawing this out is getting harder with every passing second.

‘Please.’ Beneath that sassy exterior there’s that flash of fragility again.

I couldn't refuse her if I wanted to. And the mostworrying part of all is I don’t want to. This agreement was supposed to be business, but so far it’s only been pleasure.

‘Come on, then.’ I lift her gently off the table. ‘But no funny business.’

‘Says the man with his trousers round his ankles and his cock in his hand.’ She barely stifles her laugh. ‘My room or yours?’

‘Yours.’ Because if I let her into my bed, I may never let her out of it.

Fooling around with my fake girlfriend was always part of my plan.

Falling for her wasn't.

Chapter Thirty-Four

SCARLETT

James is away for most of the week on business with Sean and Caelon, which is super productive for my college dissertation, and not so productive for my other “education”.

Now I’ve had a taste of it, of him, all I can think about is more. Waking up with him on Sunday morning was the single most transcendent experience of my life, and that’s saying a lot, given the fun we had in the games room the night before. And the shower that morning, too.

I’m torn between loving the way he’s dragging these lessons out and loathing it. I never considered myself impatient until now, but James is like an itch I can’t quite scratch. My skin pricks with a yearning I never knew existed.

I lie awake until the small hours of the morning staring at my phone, alternating between re-reading his flirtatious texts and stalking him online.

I’ve got it bad.

I thought I was obsessed before, but now I know what he’s capable of, now I know how my name sounds on his lips when he comes, how his lips taste as they meld with mine, it’s all I can think about.

When Friday finally dawns, bright and sunny, I fling back the covers and leap out of bed.

A text pings in on my phone.

Avery.

Happy birthday babe. Hope the billionaire bought you something nice. Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?

Pah! He doesn’t even know it’s my birthday. The only present I want is for him to come home. This weekend is the charity ball. Hopefully afterwards we’ll progress on to the next “lesson”.

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