Tease (Cloverleigh Farms, #8)

by Melanie Harlow

There were endless rumors about me out there—I was a cold-hearted robot (not really), I was an arrogant prick (occasionally), I was an undercover Robinhood who stole from the rich and gave to the poor (half-true), I was a commitment-phobic player (I guess also half-true . . . I avoided commitment, but I wasn’t a dick), I was shy and reserved in public but dominant and controlling in the bedroom.

“I said that we were engaged. Well, I said that I was engaged to a hot billionaire, and then when Mimi asked who, I said you. You’re the only hot billionaire I know.” She thinks I’m hot was what registered first, and it fired up my insides a little.

“You don’t miss her?” “Fuck no. She was exhausting. And I’ve never missed anyone.” He met my eyes. “I mean, except for you. There have been many times in my life when I’ve missed you.”

“You can sleep in my bed. If you want to. I mean, if you’re scared.” What if I’m not scared and I just want to be close to you?

In my fantasies, she’d whispered my name in the dark like that a thousand times. Of course, if this were my fantasy, she’d be on her knees right now. Or I’d have her back against the fridge. Or up on the counter with my tongue between her thighs.

I looked into Felicity’s eyes and saw a multitude of emotions—fear mostly, but also a familiar warmth, and possibly even a little hope. Without thinking, I lowered my lips to hers.

But I barely heard any of it, because for the first time, I was actually kissing the girl I’d been wanting to kiss since I was fifteen. Her lips remained closed, but they were just as soft and sweet as I’d imagined them, and even though the kiss was as chaste as it had to be with such a big audience, I didn’t want it to end.

“Which jewelry store?” Frannie asked. “Is it one in town?” Panic seized my throat—we hadn’t actually decided which store. “Tiffany.” Hutton surprised me by answering. “It’s at Tiffany in New York. We’re going to fly there this week and pick it up.” “You are?” Winnie asked. “We are?” I stared at Hutton. “Yes.” He met my eyes and gave me a sexy little smile. “Surprise.” “Oh.” Frannie fanned her face. “Here I go again.”

But I wanted her too much and I’d been waiting far too long to let my nerves keep this from happening. Now that I was sure she wanted this too, I reached out and grabbed her by the forearm. “Come here.”

She laughed as I pulled her into bed with me and easily slipped her body beneath mine, stretching out on top of her, pinning her wrists above her shoulders. The laughter faded as she felt my erection thick and hard between us. “Oh,” she whispered.

When I was buried deep, I lowered my lips to her ear. “You feel so fucking good.”

Or,” I said, getting to my knees, “you can stand, and I’ll kneel in front of you.” His cock twitched again. “And what do you call that?” I licked my lips. “A blowjob.”

“Touch yourself,” he demanded in a voice I’d never heard him use, a voice that couldn’t be refused.

“Sorry! I’m talking nonstop, aren’t I?” “I don’t mind.” “I just loved it all so much.” “I’m glad. Want something to drink? Whiskey or scotch?” “No, thanks. Mostly I just want to take these heels off.” “Leave them on.” I was already bending down to unbuckle one ankle strap. I looked up and saw him standing there with his glass in his hand. “What?” “Leave them on. And come over here.” I straightened up and took one tiny step. “On your hands and knees.”

“Good girl,” he said quietly, igniting a firestorm in my blood that surprised me. “Now come here.”

“Those heels have been driving me crazy all night. I want to do such bad things to you in those heels.”