Page 50 of First Touch

I crossed to the table and flipped the top of the box open. My breath caught at the piece of jewelry inside. The chain was silver and simple, but the half-dollar-size sapphire-and-diamond pendant was like something I’d never seen. Something gorgeous and unbelievably expensive.

“Do you like it?”

I startled at Reeve’s approach. Then I stammered because I loved it, and I was sure it wasn’t for me but not sure at the same time.

He reached around me and took the piece from its box. “It’s yours. Turn around.”

Stunned didn’t begin to describe my reaction. Speechless. Dumbfounded. I spun so my back was to him.

He brushed my hair over one shoulder and I held it to the side as he fastened the clasp around my neck. I felt his lips on my bare shoulder where he left a solitary kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered. Then he took the hair I had gathered and tugged it back with a painful yank. “Now you have to earn it.”

He stripped me naked except for the necklace and blindfolded me with a towel he found in the kitchen. He tied me to the dining room table with the rope and spent the next hour – or longer, maybe – teasing me, taunting me. Bruising me, spanking me. Bringing me so close to orgasm then denying my release. I could barely speak, barely form coherent words when he finally climbed on top of me and notched his cock in my cleft.

“Beg,” he said. “You have to beg.”

“Please,” was all I thought I could manage, over and over, but it wasn’t enough for him, and he rocked against me, closing in on his own orgasm without having entered me.

“I’m almost there, Emily. If you want to come with me, better tell me now.”

I fought through the haze of exhaustion and frustration, desperate. So, so desperate. Desperate to the point of rage. “Reeve, you motherfucking asshole. I’m pleading with you for the love of all that is holy, please! Please, put your goddamn cock inside of me and let me come.”

He let out a low chuckle that vibrated through my body. Then he bent down to my ear. “Not what I had in mind, but fucking hot all the same.” He slid inside me and pushed his hips forward so that he knocked against my clit. It was all I needed to send me soaring.

I passed out, completely drained and sated. I didn’t remember him untying me or gathering me into his arms, but I did wake up briefly as he tucked me into his bed. I felt the kiss he left on my forehead and heard the words he whispered: “I wasn’t supposed to want to keep you, Emily.”

Despite my exhaustion, the words imprinted. They were both sweet and ominous at the same time. I wanted him to keep me too. I was more than happy to be kept by him. Was he implying that there would be a reason that he couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?

But I was too tired to think about it any more than that. I fell into a deep sleep that lasted well into the next morning.

CHAPTER 15

I woke to sunlight streaming brightly through the wall of windows. Reeve wasn’t there, but the other side of the bed had been slept in. Too bad I didn’t remember it. I considered pulling a pillow over my head and going back to sleep, but my brain was already at work with a million thoughts that wouldn’t let me shut down. One thought in particular I couldn’t ignore any longer: now that I was in with Reeve, how the hell was I going to help Amber?

It had to be my priority. Reeve could be more to me than my connection to her, but he couldn’t be instead of her. That wasn’t a promise I was going to break.

So it was time to search for answers, and I wasn’t finding any under the covers.

Besides, the smell of bacon wafting through the house was a siren I couldn’t deny.

Since my dress hadn’t made it upstairs, and since I preferred to not give Reeve’s staff a show if I could help it, I searched through some drawers until I found a plain white T-shirt. I threw it on and headed downstairs.

I didn’t expect to find Reeve in the kitchen, but the sounds and smells of coffee and cooking were the only signs of life in the house so I went there first.

To my surprise, it was exactly where I found Reeve. He was standing behind the island stovetop, turning bacon in a skillet with a pair of cooking tongs. A medium bowl on the counter had the remnants of an egg mixture and just as I walked over, four slices of toast popped up from the toaster.

“Morning,” I said with a silly grin that came out of nowhere.

He returned the smile, his expression heating as he ran his gaze down my body. “I like you wearing my things.”

“I like wearing your things.” The giddy voice that spoke sounded like a freaking teenager. I cleared my throat and came to stand across from him, the island between us. “You’re cooking. Where’s your staff?”

“I gave them the day off.”

“Really?” Everything about the situation was surprising – no staff, Reeve cooking. The last man that had cooked for me had been Liam and that had only been burgers on the grill. That was a decade ago. So much had changed. So much hadn’t.

Thinking of Liam made me feel off balance, and I kicked my toe absentmindedly against the wood base of the counter. “I like it. Like being really alone with you.” Whoa. Where had that come from?