Page 84

“Tell me, when I watch you dance, is it the music that gets you going, or are you imagining something else?”

I sit and watch as his eyes trace over every part of me, as he replays every move I’ve ever made in front of him.

“M-Music.”

Fuck, I used to be such a good liar.

The tilt of his lips hitches—the look of success replacing his sly features.

“So you’re not picturing what it would be like to grind your beautiful body on mine. Press that perfect pussy into me until you find a spot that has you squirming.”

I swallow roughly, shifting in my seat. “Stop.”

The shiver that rushes through my body screams for him to keep going. If I could moan in place of my command, that would feel much more satisfying, but I refuse.

“You sure you want me to?”

I nod and shake my head, no and yes on the tip of my tongue.

“Stand up,” Jett orders.

My body twitches to move, but I don’t listen.

“Sofia baby, I won’t repeat myself.”

Fuck, what is it about that nickname that surrenders every part of me to him.

Maybe it’s the huskiness with which he says it, or the way it rolls so perfectly off his tongue, like it’s the only name he’s meant to say. Either way, I can’t buy my way out of obeying; my body is already doing what he asked. Rising slowly, I let him guide his large hands up my hips and turn me around so I’m facing in the direction of my now empty chair.

“Sit.”

“I’m not sitting on your la⁠—”

A force that makes me gasp plops my ass right into his lap.

Immediately, a hard bulge I recognize greets my ass, forcing me to wiggle in an attempt to get it off, but it’s no use.

It’s not going anywhere. It’s solid.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop. I’ll never touch you again,” he murmurs, his warm breath at the base of my earlobe.

“I don⁠—”

His hands glue themselves to the side of the chair, and as quick as they’re there, mine grip them, a beg between palms that he keep at whatever he’s doing.

“I won’t do this without your words, Fia. You know I don’t play like that.”

In slow motion, I curl my fingers within his, using all my strength to bring his palms to my body.

Strongly, his hands snake through the thin material of my tank top, connecting with my bare chest. Both of his large hands dust underneath my breasts. His tattoo-covered fingers tickling beside my hardened nipples until a whine sneaks from my mouth as I arch into his touch.

“Tell me you want this,” he grits out, full of rasp.

“This is against the rules,” I say breathily, hardly mustering the words.

“Fuck the rules.”

“This can’t happen.”