Imperfect intentions, p.13
Imperfect Intentions, page 13
“Neighbors,” he says with a wink.
Taking a paper napkin from a stack on the table, he twists it around the bottom end of the stick and hands me a mini chicken kebab. “Here. Careful. It’s hot.”
Our fingers brush when I take it. Pretending not to notice, I pull a piece of chicken off with my teeth. The lemon-butter marinade is delicious, and the tender meat melts in my mouth. He feeds me all the chicken ones, himself only eating the prawn and beef kebabs.
“Don’t you like chicken?” I ask, wiping the sauce from my mouth.
“It’s the only meat I don’t eat.”
“That’s good to know,” I say, my tone sarcastic.
He deals his comeback with a wicked smile. “The knowledge will come in useful when you cook for me.”
“I’ll make sure to stock the fridge with chicken nuggets.”
He retorts with, “Who said life with you won’t be exciting?”
I tilt my head toward the grill. “Your meat is burning.”
He carries on feeding me as the meat cooks, alternating between chicken, beef, and prawns until my glass is empty and there’s only a beef kebab left.
“Shall we toss a coin for the last one?” he asks.
“I finished off the chicken. It’s all yours.”
“If you insist,” he says, devouring the kebab in one bite.
“Are you always a carnivore, or do you sometimes eat vegetables?”
He chuckles. “I’m a meat guy. To be fair, there were apricots and cherry tomatoes in the kebabs. And don’t forget the onions.”
“Five cherry tomatoes don’t count. You didn’t just run out and buy the food today, did you?”
“I always have food in the fridge.”
Yet he doesn’t eat chicken. That fact alone gives me my answer.
“What about the toiletries in the powder room?” I ask. “Did you climb through my window and go through my stuff while I was working?”
He smiles. “Nothing as romantic as that. Your mother told me.”
“My mother?” I ask with a sense of betrayal.
“I asked her the night I had dinner at your place.”
“As easy as that,” I say bitterly, getting to my feet. “It’s getting late. Since you’ve finished feeding me, I’ll be on my way.”
He stands, walks around the table, and stops next to my chair. “I didn’t bring you here just to feed you.”
Swallowing, I stare up at his handsome face. “Why did you bring me here?”
Cupping my cheek, he says in a husky voice, “To teach you manners.”
Chapter 23
Leon
* * *
Violet’s pretty eyes flare as she looks at me. She’s so goddamn beautiful I want to pull her against my chest and kiss away the defiance that sparks in the lavender depth of her angry gaze. If she stopped being angry, defiant, and obstinate, she’ll see how good we can be together. I’ve never loved a woman, but I know how to please them and make them happy. If she lets me, I can easily fall for her in a way I’ve never fallen for anyone. When I do, it will be hard.
I brush a thumb over the silky skin of her cheek. “I want to own you, Violet Starley. I want every part of you. I know what I’m asking scares you, but you don’t have to be afraid. I’ll make it so good you won’t remember why you were wary to begin with.”
She steps back, leaving me with my arm raised in the air and my hand empty.
“We don’t want the same things,” she says.
I don’t allow the space she puts between us. I go after her, putting our bodies flush together. The softness of her curves and the warmth of her skin only make me want to touch her more. My intention turns my voice hoarse. “I think we do.”
Indecision plays over her face. Her lips part, but the words don’t pour out. She’s not contradicting the statement, because she knows as well as I do it will be a lie. The night I spanked her is proof of that. She needed it. She loved it.
“We’re attracted to each other,” I say. “I’m up for a promotion. I’ll have a good position in the company, although I don’t need the salary to take care of you. I can give you everything you want. Ask, and it’s yours.”
“Except freedom,” she says in a small voice.
“How much freedom do you have now?”
She looks away.
“I saw how much freedom you have in Gus’s house, Violet.”
She faces me again with a scowl. “So you’re offering me one prison in exchange for another. That’s a lousy deal and an even lousier marriage proposal.”
“Like I told you, I’m not asking.”
“Then why try at all to sell me the idea?” she asks with thin lips and accusing eyes.
“I’m trying to make you see reason. Fighting it won’t help. You’re only making this harder on yourself.”
Turning her back on me, she says, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Good.” With a swift movement, I fold an arm under her knees and lift her into my arms. “Because I’m done talking.”
“What are you doing?” she exclaims, squirming and pushing on my chest.
“You said you wouldn’t see the inside of my bedroom.” I tighten my hold. “I warned you about challenging me.”
“Put me down, Leon. I mean it.”
Her wiggling doesn’t slow me down. I climb the stairs to the first floor and carry her inside my bedroom, kicking the door shut behind me before depositing her on her feet. She’s not my prisoner, but I turn the key in the lock to make sure the message comes across clearly. She backtracks to the bed when I pull the key out and drop it in my pocket.
Advancing to her, I say, “Defying me only compels me to chase you harder. I told you, darling, I always win.”
She lifts her chin. “Meaning I’ll always lose?”
“This doesn’t have to be a battle.”
“But only you get your way?” she asks, staring up at my face with angry sparks popping in her eyes as I stop in front of her.
“You’ll get your way plenty. You only have to ask.”
“I’m not one of your whores,” she spits out, her feisty temper always fast to ignite. “It’s not as simple as shoving money down the front of my shirt and making me come.”
“I prefer sex worker. Whore has a derogative connotation, and those ladies deserve respect for being honest about their intentions. They don’t lie to get what they want or pretend to be someone they’re not. Some people marry for money, yet you won’t call them whores.”
“Like my mom?” she asks, her nostrils flaring.
It seems I’ve pushed a sensitive button. “Your mother didn’t cross my mind, but yes, I suppose she falls into that category.”
Drawing back her arm, she slaps me hard across the face. “Don’t you dare insult my mother.”
I touch my cheek where the sting of her fingers lingers, tamping down my own anger as I reply in a measured tone, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Her small frame shakes with anger, her voice escalating in volume. “You have no idea what she’s been through. She did what she did for me.” She punctuates the statement by pushing a finger on her chest. “She married Gus so I could walk.”
Suddenly, it makes sense. I’ve watched Gus and Gia during dinner. Gus calls the shots, and Gia puts on the act. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out she married him for his money. The why hasn’t occurred to me until Violet just spelled it out.
She clamps her lips together as if she’s said too much, her paling cheeks giving away that she’s not happy with her quick tongue.
“I didn’t mean to insult your mother,” I say.
“Whatever.”
She swivels on her heel and makes a beeline for the door, but I catch her wrist and pull her back to me. Our bodies collide, heating my veins with more than anger.
“This discussion isn’t over,” I say, pinning her to me with a hand on her lower back.
She turns her face to the window. “I say it is.”
Letting go of her wrist, I grip her chin and make her face me. “Giving you money and making you come are benefits for me, benefits I’ll enjoy greatly, but you don’t have to hate it. If only for once you weren’t so fast to lose your temper, you’d see the only thing standing between you and happiness is how you choose to look at this arrangement. You can look at it as just another prison or you can see my intentions for what they are and let me take care of you. You can enjoy my protection and all the ways in which I want to please you, or you can resent me and wallow in your childish resentment and anger. Whatever you choose, this is happening. You’re mine, Violet. Nothing will change that, not your defiance and not your little rebellion. The sooner you accept your fate, the easier it’ll be for you.”
She listens to the whole speech with the resentment I asked her not to harbor simmering with unshed tears in her eyes. She’s hard-headed and nothing if not determined to resist me, but I’ll find a way to break her.
Wrapping her fingers around my wrist, she moves my hand away. “Are you done?”
“Yes.” I take in her stunning features. “I haven’t held back. I’ve said everything that was on my mind. If you’re brave enough to be honest, I’m listening.”
“I hate you,” she says, her nostrils quivering. “There. Is that honest enough for you?”
It takes much more patience than I possess, but I manage restraint. “One day, Violet Starley, I’ll put a smile instead of a frown on your face.”
Indifference her choice of defense, she dons a mask. “I’ve seen the inside of your bedroom. It’s nothing extraordinary. Now you can take me home.”
I brush a tendril of hair from her face. “You didn’t think it was going to be that easy?”
She jerks her head away. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to understand that actions have consequences. You can hate and despise me, but you won’t disrespect me. If I send you a message, I expect you to react in an appropriate manner of politeness by replying to express your gratitude for my concern. If I ask where you are, it’s because your safety is important to me. You will send a response promptly and without argument not only to factually inform me about your whereabouts but also to reciprocate with gratefulness for the fact that I’m taking my responsibility seriously.”
Her voice trembles with fury. “You’re so full of shit. I wish you could hear yourself.”
“I need you to tell me that you understand. I’m not going to regurgitate the same argument every time.”
“Why don’t you just plant a tracker in my phone?” she asks with a good dose of sass. “It’ll be easier.”
“I’m already tracking your phone,” I say, relaying the truth in an even tone. “Replying to my messages is about the principle of the matter.”
“You bastard,” she cries out. “When did you do it?” Anger tints her cheeks red. “The night at the restaurant? You had no right.”
“I loaded an app on your phone when I programmed my number, and I disagree. Seeing that your safety is my priority, it’s my responsibility rather than my right.”
“Damn, you’re good.” She utters a cold laugh. “You’re so good you actually believe yourself.”
“In time, so will you.” Splaying my fingers over her jaw, I tilt her head back. “Do you know why, my darling? Because it’s the truth.”
Not giving her time to retort with another sharp remark, I dig my fingers into her cheeks, holding her in place as I lower my mouth to hers. The fusion of our lips is like the emotion that defines us. Angry. She bites, but the pain only fuels my desire. I retaliate by nipping her bottom lip. Her gasp parts her lips, allowing me to steal inside with my tongue. When her sharp teeth clamp down on the tip, I warn her with a growl. Tilting my hips, I bend my legs and align my cock with the soft spot between her legs. Instead of biting down, she relaxes her jaw. I rub against her, the friction sending waves of pleasure through my body. She gasps again, her body going slack.
If this is the only weapon at my disposal, I’ll use it without hesitation. Cupping her face, I deepen the kiss. She mumbles a protest but at the same time wraps her arms around my neck and flattens her breasts against my chest. The flames we’re igniting are as hot as I knew they’d be. I kiss her harder still, cutting her lip with my teeth, but she’s kissing me right back.
Moaning, she threads her fingers through my hair and pulls hard. Fuck. I nearly combust. Without breaking the kiss, I unbutton my shirt and peel out of it. She drags her nails over my chest, inviting goosebumps. My skin contracts from the sting as she closes her fingers in my chest hair. She traces the grooves of my pecs, her soft touch not preparing me for the sharp twist as she pinches my nipples.
She’s fire reincarnated.
She’ll be the death of me.
She’s not the only one exploring. My hands are roaming too. Slowing the kiss to a more sensual caress, I taste the depth of her mouth while fulfilling a fantasy by testing the weight of her breast. She’s soft and firm in my hand, just like I imagined. She moans, leaning into my palm when I gently rub a thumb over the hardened tip. I put all my skill into the kiss, my aim to seduce as I slide a hand up her thigh and pull her leg around my ass. The position opens her to me, allowing me better access to the heat between her thighs. The roll of my hips mimics the act we’d be performing if we were naked. Her resistance has melted. All that burning anger has transformed into arousal, into something I can finally use. The only thing standing between me fucking her are two layers of clothes.
She pulls away, the color of her eyes a shade darker as she looks at me. She’s panting, her chest heaving. I let her leg down and reach for the button of her jeans. She doesn’t stop me when I pop the button through the hole. She doesn’t look away when I pull down the zipper and slip a hand inside her underwear to cup her sex. She’s warm and slick. I like that she waxes. I like to feel her like this, with nothing between my fingers and her silken skin. Coating a finger in her arousal, I trace the line of her slit. She inhales sharply, grabbing my shoulders for support as I tease her clit with the pad of my thumb.
I watch her face as I gently part her before slipping my finger inside. Her lashes lower and dip. She throws back her head and bites her lip. I stroke deeper, curling my finger to find her sensitive spot. She makes a sexy little sound, letting me know I found it.
“Look at me,” I say.
She lifts her head and focuses on my face.
“You want this, Violet.”
She whimpers.
“Say it,” I insist.
“I want this,” she whispers, cupping her hand over mine between her legs and arching her hips to force my finger deeper.
Fuck, that’s hot. But that’s not how I want to make her come, not by humping my hand.
I pull my hand from her underwear and command in a rough voice, “Take off your pants.”
We’re both high on lust, high enough for her to put aside whatever objections she has about us and kick off her sneakers. Biting her lip, she pushes the jeans over her hips and down her legs. She removes her socks before straightening, standing in front of me in a triangle of pink lace.
“T-shirt too,” I say.
She raises her arms and pulls off the T-shirt, letting it drop to the floor. Her bra matches her panties. Her nipples are visible from under the lace. Does she have any idea how hot she is? She’s so perfect, a sudden rush of impatience to claim her and stamp my possession on her rushes through me. It takes every ounce of restraint I possess not to grab her. This isn’t something I want to rush. I want to take my sweet time with her in bed.
When I reach for my buckle, she says, “No. The pants stay on.”
I’m so consumed with need I don’t care that I won’t get to go all the way. All I care about is luring her closer and making her come. I’ve only had the pleasure once, and getting her off is already my addiction.
“Fine,” I say, dropping my hands. “My pants will stay on.” Moving to the bed, I sit down and spread my legs a little. “Come here.”
She hesitates only for a second before walking over and stopping in front of me.
“You’re stunning, Violet. Fucking beautiful.” I consider how to take the game forward without shattering her fragile insecurities. “Come lie on my lap.” It’s something we’ve done, something familiar that shouldn’t feel threatening.
This time, there’s no hesitation. She gets onto the bed and drapes herself face-down over my legs with her groin in my lap. Her willingness makes me smile. The pink thong exposes her ass cheeks, rewarding me with one of the sexiest sights I’ve seen.
I rub a palm over her globes, gently caressing each. “Tell me about your fantasies.”
She folds her arms at her elbows and turns her face to the side. “Tell me about yours.”
My smile grows wider. She’s playing it safe. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine. Brushing a hand up her spine, I tell her honestly, “My fantasy is fulfilling a woman’s.”
“In other words, sex is about your ego.”
“Is that wrong?”
“It depends on your intentions.”
Hooking a finger in the elastic of her thong, I drag it slowly over her hips and down her thighs. Her ass is round and firm, and her soft skin has a golden tan. “That’s simple. To make you feel good.”
“Not to carve a notch in your headboard and tell yourself what a man you are?”
I chuckle. “Do you always generalize where men are concerned?”
“Men will be men, right?” she says, sounding bitter.
I’ve seen a few backsides in my day, and I never compare because each woman has her own unique beauty, but Violet is different. She’s not only the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, but she also affects me, and that makes for a huge change. To date, the only feeling I’ve had while holding a woman in my arms was my need for release. With her, it goes further, deeper. With her, I need everything. Body and soul.
I trace her crease from her lower back to the junction of her legs. “It sounds as if you haven’t had good experiences with men.”
