an inch.
“This isn’t all about you, Brooklyn. This is about our image—”
“I get that part of my job is making DRM look reputable, but I have my own image to cultivate, too,” I say, cutting him off. “Not just the image that we have together as a married couple—I want people to see that I’m bold and confident and fun, so stop walking all over that! I’m not that wholesome, goody-two-shoes you tried so hard to get me to be!”
“Try respectable! Try universally appealing! There’s nothing wrong with those things.” There it is again. That tone to his voice. “Besides, the press will always be looking for any hint of exploitable drama, so you’re just setting yourself up to be their gossip channel fodder!”
I’m about to lob back a retort, but all of a sudden an epiphany hits me. This isn’t just self-righteous anger or concern over our public image.
Luka Zoric is jealous.
“What are you smiling at?” he asks, looking even more pissed off. My grin only widens.
“You’re jealous,” I tell him. “I finally get it now.”
“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, avoiding my eyes.
Nodding, I say, “I thought it was all about you and your image, but that’s just been an excuse this whole time. You’re jealous, and you always have been.”
And boy does that make me all warm and fuzzy inside.
“I have nothing to be jealous about,” he insists, sinking back down on the couch. “I just want you to think about what you’re doing, and the consequences.”
“Oh, I am. I’m thinking about it real hard.” I perch on the edge of the couch and take his hand. He lets me. “And the way I see it, you’re the one who benefits from my nights out with Mateo.”
“How’s that,” he asks, but I can hear the interest despite his cold tone.
“Well,” I say, running my fingers lightly up his arm, “the truth is, you do own my body.”
“Mm-hmm,” he agrees. He turns slightly toward me, his eyes catching mine.
I lower my voice to a purr. “So what happens when I go out is, I drink a little, bump and grind with Mateo a little, get myself all worked up, all turned on…”
“And then…” he coaxes.
Leaning over, I whisper in his ear, “And then I come home and I take it all out on you.”
I’m stroking the taut muscle of his forearm with my thumb, back and forth. He’s wearing a fitted white T-shirt and pajama pants, and he looks sexy as hell.
“Is that how it is?” he asks.
He cups my breast, his thumb lightly rubbing over my nipple. I can see the outline of his stiff cock through his lightweight pajama pants, and I can’t resist stroking him through the fabric. He presses up into my hand as his eyes take on that dark sheen of desire that I love so much.
“It is,” I say. “You ready for me to take it all out on you?”
He grins, but I can tell he’s still battling emotions. I stand and give his hand a tug. This revelation about his jealousy has opened up a new side of him I hadn’t seen before, and I like it.
I want him to want me, of course—and a little jealousy doesn’t hurt.
Leaning down toward him, I cruise the side of his neck with my lips, gently at first and then harder, more demanding. His taste fills my hungry mouth, making me want to lick him everywhere. As eager as I am, though, I take my time. Enjoying the way his eyes fall closed as I trail kisses up and down his neck, over his collarbone, behind his ear, and finally, his lips.
He crushes his mouth to mine. I smile around the kiss.
Oh yeah. I’ve got him.
“Why don’t we go to the bedroom now and work off all this pent-up energy?” I murmur.
Without a word, he stands up and follows me down the hallway.
I think I’m going to like jealous Luka after all.
Luka
Chapter 19
Brooklyn and I have five minutes before we need to be out the door for Stefan and Tori’s gender reveal party, and I’m still fussing with my tie in front of the closet mirror. Normally I can do this in my sleep, but I’m off my game this morning. A million thoughts are ping-ponging around in my brain; I need some time to collect myself. Which is why I’m not asking Brooklyn to knot the damn thing for me.
I can’t stop thinking about what she said when I was taking care of Mr.