Page 97 of Parting Shot

“Take off your pants!” came his order, both desperate and beseeching at the same time.

I had created doubt and fear. It was all on me. I was so stupid sometimes.

Moving fast, I tackled him, pile-driving him down onto the floor of the car, my hand behind his head so he wouldn’t bump it.

“What are you⁠—”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, bending to press my forehead to his, closing my eyes at the same time.

He was very close to hyperventilating.

I inhaled and exhaled slowly, my hand moving between us, over his heart, just there, pressing gently, letting him feel the weight as I breathed.

He trembled violently, almost jerking under me, as if an electric current had passed through his spine.

“Forgive me,” I said, my voice hoarse and low as I lifted my head and stared down into his eyes.

His hands were suddenly in my hair, buried there, holding on.

“I know why you want us to have sex.”

He said nothing, but his eyes were riveted on mine.

“You make me stupid with wanting you,” I confessed.

He gently massaged the back of my neck. “When we’re together, you agree with me. You’re not scared, and you commit to everything and anything I want.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” I asked dryly.

He laughed lightly and lifted his leg to rub his thigh over my hip. “You really like fucking me.”

I settled over him, and he wrapped both legs around my hips as I burrowed my face into the side of his neck. “I do like it—love it actually—but that ain’t all.”

“No?”

I lifted my head so I could see his face. “Not hardly.”

My words soothed him, and I watched the softness return to his eyes.

“Aaron—”

“Stop. Just listen to me,” he said gruffly. “We’re going into that resort together, and we’re coming out together. The whole time we’re there, you stay right by me.”

“You know that might not be possible,” I began gently.

“No,” he whispered against my temple. “I know it’s not a vacation. If it were, I’d have you sequestered away on some private beach.”

I made a rumbling noise into the hollow of his throat, and he arched up off the floor, rubbing against me, moaning softly as he clutched at my back.

“You like it when I do that,” I said, pleased because these were little things I could build on, private things between us.

“It drives me crazy,” he confessed before he caught my gaze. “But seriously, you’re going to love being on the yacht with me, but there’s always, always going to be other people. Miguel is a constant because he’s not just my driver, right? He keeps me safe. But there are housekeepers, butlers, cooks—these people are part of my life, and we’ve been together a long time. I have surrounded myself with an amazing group, and you’ll find that out. But seeing me with you, that’s part of the gig. It’s part of having ironclad confidentiality agreements, and you need to get comfortable with that part of your new life.”

Yes, I did.

“The people who work for me are not just anybody.”

“I get it,” I insisted, shifting over him, pressing my hard groin to his.