My Cruel Lover (Wicked Poison #3) - T.L. Smith Page 0,31

rationally, his other hand grips my face so his palm is covering my cheek, and he leans down and kisses my lips pushing me into the back seat of the car.

I feel his body rub up against mine, feeling every inch of his hardness. I shouldn’t want this or even need this.

The two of us?

We are bound not to work.

We are bound to explode.

I didn’t see that with my other relationships, but for some reason, with Beckham, I do. And let me point out we are not in a relationship, and I don’t want that. I’m enjoying being single, being me, doing what I want to do. My life is my own right now, apart from my beautiful boy, who I adore having around.

My hands reach for his sides, and I grip onto his shirt for dear life as he kisses me.

I wish he would stop kissing me.

No, I don’t.

Not really.

But I do.

Beckham pushes me back and lifts one hand to cover my head as he ducks me further into my car, so my back hits the backseat, and he’s hovering over the top of me. His hand sneaks between us and slides up my skirt until he reaches my panties and rubs my clit. He applies pressure, kissing down my neck, taking his time as he does. Due to our position, my hands are stuck, and I’m forced to remain clutching his shirt.

I start breathing heavily as he slides one finger under my panties and inside me while he bites my nipples through my shirt. How he knew the exact spot that turns me on, I may never know.

I hear a car, and my body freezes.

My hands clutch him, but he doesn’t stop moving.

And because he doesn’t, I have to try even harder to fight the orgasm from building, even though I’m afraid any second now we will get caught. Fuck, someone could be watching me get my rocks off right now.

“My body is covering every inch of you. Knock it off,” he growls into my ear before he bites it.

This is so unfair.

“You are an asshole,” I say, my back arching into him.

“Yes, I may be. But you are the bitch beneath me about to come.” He chuckles, and I can’t even argue with him about the fact he just called me a bitch. Because his hands are working faster, he’s grinding into me at the same time, and my senses are going into overdrive with how much I’m feeling right now.

“Fuuuck.” The word explodes from my mouth with so much emphasis, and as it does, his hands leave me and he grips my face, kissing me, shutting me up. The breath that I need to catch now is his breath. And Beckham doesn’t seem to mind at all.

He takes a deep breath and then he’s off me.

No more kisses.

No more hands touching me.

I try to sit up and pull my skirt down, and when I finally manage it, I see him fixing himself in his trousers before he looks down at me, turns, and walks away.

What on earth am I doing this for?

And the bigger question?

Why is he?

Beckham’s already closed off in his office the next day when I arrive. I slept like a baby last night thanks to him, but I would never tell him that. Actually, ever since we had sex, I’ve been sleeping well. Maybe I needed to release some stress. I just didn’t realize I would use my boss to do so.

We don’t talk, apart from me letting him know when his appointments arrive.

And the rest of the week goes by exactly the same.

He makes no smart-ass comments. His eyes don’t wander to what I’m wearing. He keeps it all to himself and remains lost in work.

It’s Friday, and I’m going out tonight. Oliver is so excited to spend the night with August and Winter. I’m getting ready to leave the office for the weekend, slipping my heels back on, when I notice Beckham is standing at his door.

“Come in here for a minute and shut the door.” I grab my purse and do as he says. He’s standing in front of his desk, leaning on it, his legs crossed in front of him as he watches me.

“Shandy has invited Archie and me tonight.”

Well, shit. I nod, but my body tenses. I can’t help it.

“I’ve declined.”

“Okay.” My body instantly relaxes, and I take a deep centering breath.

“Have a good night, Jacinta. See you on Monday.” He smirks, and I turn to walk to