Forever Wicked

Chapter Three

Gia tried to breathe through her nerves as she arrived at Jason’s condo the next night. The mountain of lies she’d told her family still scalded her with shame. They wouldn’t understand. Mila would tell her not to compromise herself. Her parents would be disappointed that she’d sold her morals and her body, even briefly. Her brother, if he’d been here, would have gone after Jason with cocked fists and a loaded semiautomatic.

Fabricating excuses had been far better for everyone.

As she stepped off the glass elevator that gave her aerial views of the city stretching on forever, she crept into a foyer with a water feature cascading down a glass wall. His door stood to the left. Gripping her suitcase in her hand, she glanced at her phone. Three minutes until six. One hundred eighty seconds to decide how the hell she was going to leave in eighteen days with her sanity and her heart intact. Of course, she’d had nearly twenty-four hours to ruminate on that problem. She’d come up with absolutely nothing.

Gia focused on his imposing black wood and wrought iron door, but couldn’t make her feet move. Her belly clamped. Her heart stuttered. She tried to convince herself that she could handle this, but the mental pep talk wasn’t working.

To her shock, the door opened suddenly, and Jason stood there in jeans, a long-sleeved jersey knit top in midnight blue, bare feet, and that triumphant hint of a smile she wanted to slap off his face.

“You’re on time. Very good.” He stepped back to admit her. As she entered with leaden legs, he glanced at her suitcase that had seen better days. “Is that all you brought?”

Had he expected her to bring her whole closet? “You gave me the impression I wasn’t going to need many clothes.”

“You won’t.” He shut the door behind her and took her bag. “I don’t have many ground rules while you’re here. Anything you see in the kitchen you want, take it. Don’t leave the building without consulting me. I’ve got a heated pool on the deck outside our bedroom. There’s a full gym downstairs. You’re welcome to use either as you’d like. No work while you’re here, especially on your brother’s case. We’ll discuss any family emergencies together as they arise. When we’re sceneing, you will call me Mr. Denning. Is anything I’ve said confusing?”

“No.” She supposed that since she hadn’t seen or knelt for him in nearly a year, he no longer wanted her to call him Master. That was just fine. That slash of pain didn’t mean a damn thing.

To avoid staring at him, she eyed his personal space. The expanse of a two-story wall of windows was unbroken by a drape or blind. Then again, why bother? Who could peek in on them this high up?

“Nice shoes.” He glanced down at her dressiest T-strap black heels. “What three garments did you choose to wear with them?”

His high-handed attitude made her feel like a piece of merchandise. Gia tried to keep a grip on her temper. Was he punishing her for the last year or was she seeing the real Jason Denning now that he had no reason to woo her?

“Hello to you, too. My day was hectic. How about yours?”

“It dragged by while I counted the hours until I could fuck you again.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. “I’m much happier now that my wait is over. And I don’t want to hear the attitude again. I’ve done nothing you haven’t agreed to, so don’t act as if I’ve insulted you.”

Technically, he was right, and that rubbed Gia completely wrong. “Should I just drop all my clothes here, get to the floor, and spread my legs? Or will I make it up to the bedroom before you’re all over me?”

Jason froze. “Do you need to reconsider your decision? The door is right behind you if you’d rather divorce now and forfeit the money.”

So cold. Where was the firm but caring Dom she’d fallen for? If she was smart, she’d take him up on this reprieve and walk out the door. But she couldn’t afford to. Besides, it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. She’d hurt him, so now he meant to hurt her back. An eye for an eye.

“No. I’m staying until the twenty-fourth.”

For a silent moment, he let her feel the weight of his anger. “Then act like it or we’ll start talking about consequences.”

Gia knew she shouldn’t mouth off to him again, but she had to ask him one thing. “Would your parents be proud of you right now?”

He shifted his weight and seemed to ponder her question. The conclusion he reached apparently amused him. “My father would. He was an absolute bastard who ate other people for breakfast. My mother would expect it. In fact, just a few days ago she suggested that I take you in hand and be firmer in my expectations. I didn’t listen to her much growing up, but I think she might be onto something now.”

His answer horrified her, mostly because he appeared dead serious. Nor did he seem to think his behavior was appalling. Oh god… She wasn’t just in over her head; he’d no doubt drown her before the night was through.

Jason had not only bought her body until their anniversary, he’d bought her soul. She’d sold it to him almost without a fight.

Gia closed her eyes in shame. “I’m wearing a sweater, a bra, and jeans.”

“No panties?” he murmured in her ear as he set her suitcase down and began circling her like a shark. She heard the rustle of him around her, felt his body heat across her skin.

“None.”

“I’m very pleased. Take everything off.”

Her brows drew together as she tensed and tried to find her fortitude. Would it be even harder when she had to spread her legs for him and allow him inside her, knowing he merely wanted revenge? Or would he, like before, overwhelm her with pleasure until she panted and begged? She didn’t know which would hurt more.

Slipping out of her shoes, she stepped onto the textured wood. It was solid, comforting, kind of like the floor in her dad’s den. Gia focused on that as she peeled her sweater over her head and dropped it to the ground. She tried not to think about what she was doing when she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. Not that the lace covered much, but as she removed what little protection it afforded, cold hit her nipples. They beaded. She refused to believe it had anything to do with Jason’s blistering stare.

Slowly, Jason reached out and touched her. Gia started with a little gasp. His ghost of a smile haunted her when he ran his knuckles up the curve of her waist, to the swell of her breast, brushing over the sensitive bead. Against her will, a jolt of desire shivered through her system. Her breath hitched.

“Pretty. Soft,” he whispered. “Now lose the jeans so I can see your pussy.”

Gia dragged in a shuddering breath, her whole body tense. Why did she resent him and want him so much at the same time? What mystical control did he have over her body? Or did she simply respond because she’d always loved him?

Her fingers shook as she unsnapped her pants. The zipper fell with a subdued hiss. Then she fitted her hands on the waistband and pushed them down her hips. A year ago, they’d been tight. Since then, they’d gotten so big, they fell to her knees with the tiniest shove. She stepped out of them, leaving them piled on the wood beside her sweater.

Gia stood totally bare in front of him, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Jason took her chin in his grip. “You don’t get to escape me by closing your eyes and pretending I’m someone else.”

Lashes fluttering, she lifted her lids. “That’s not… I wasn’t even thinking of another man.”

“So this is the sacrificial martyr routine. Perfect,” he snapped. “Nothing makes a man feel more wanted than cringing.”

Gia clenched her fists. “For the next eighteen days, you can tell me where to be, what to wear, where to sleep, how to kneel, and the way you want me to spread my legs. You do not get to tell me how to feel.”

He hesitated, his stare taking her in. She wished she could see warmth in his blue eyes—something that made his strict care seem like the safety net it once had. Now it just felt like a blade he held at her throat.

Finally, he stepped back, reaching behind him to grab a fluffy white robe on a coat rack she hadn’t noticed. It was too small for him, and it made Gia wonder if he kept it here for his overnight conquests. She tried not to weep at the thought as he slipped it over her shoulders and she rushed to belt it around her waist.

“Go upstairs,” he demanded. “At the end of the hall, you’ll find our bedroom and someone waiting for you. I’ll be up soon.”

Someone? He wasn’t coming up to push her into bed right this second? Or had he arranged for another person to do his bondage dirty work first? She frowned.

Annoyance tightened his lips. “Problem?”

Whatever awaited her upstairs would allow her precious time to confront her feelings and get them under control. She’d been terrified out of her mind on the job once or twice. She’d buckled down, pushed through, and taken care of business. This required the same strategy.

“None.”

Gia swept past him and headed up the stairs. Before they’d married, she would have taunted him with a kiss and a flirty smile. Now, she risked a peek at him over her shoulder and found him watching her, unblinking and resolved.

With a shiver, she raced to the master bedroom and got her first look at his personal space. The soft lights of the recessed cans and the golden glow from a lamp on his nightstand illuminated the room, muting the view of the city. The big dark leather-tufted headboard dominated one wall and lorded over the king-sized bed, covered in white with accents of shimmering taupe. It looked like a sleek hotel room. Except for the two women who stood inside the space, both gorgeous and impeccably groomed.

“Gia?” a blonde in her mid-thirties asked.

“Yes.” Were they Jason’s lovers? Did he want her to hear their bedroom tales or something?

“I’m Michaela.” Her smile broadened, a friendly gesture that surprisingly set her at ease. Then she gestured to the woman beside her. “This is my assistant Stacia.”

The very petite, exotic brunette bowed her head in welcome. “Hello.”

What was going on? “Nice to meet you.”

“If you’ll come with me into the bathroom, we’ll get started on your hair,” said Michaela.

Her hair? Jason wanted her tresses arranged in some fancy do before he tousled her in his big bed? Then again, this was his show. She was here to entertain him.

“Sure.”

As they rounded the corner into the modern space, she stopped short. A contemporary oval tub stood alone in the corner of the room on dark slate tile. Views of the city sparkled from the two walls of windows. A double vanity with hideously expensive marble carved out not only the counters but the sinks, all in severe angles. The piece took up half the length of one wall. A massive shower ate up the rest. No curtain or glass partitioned it off. The space was designed to simply walk into, with shower heads to spray a body from every direction, as well as overhead.

In the middle of the large space, Michaela had set up a big leather chair with an ottoman and waved Gia toward it. “Please sit here.”

Getting her hair done wasn’t exactly like being waterboarded. With a shrug, she eased into the seat.

Immediately, Michaela had her hands in Gia’s tresses, fluffing and testing its texture. “Tell me what you’d like to do with your hair. I’d recommend a trim to clean up the ends. We can play with the color if you want. Your dark brown has gold tones. It’s pretty, but I can add more warmth, frame your face with some highlights. We can also give you some depth with lowlights.”

“He didn’t give you specific instructions?” If he’d paid a pair of beauticians to come to his place, she figured that Jason would want to call the shots.

“Just to bring out your natural beauty and make you happy.”

That puzzled the hell out of Gia. She’d never been a girly-girl, and highlights would just mean maintenance later that she didn’t need to deal with. Her plate was already full. But a free haircut was a free haircut.

“Just a trim, please.”

Michaela didn’t show her disappointment. “Of course. I’ll condition it, too. Now that winter is coming, you’ll need a little extra moisture.”

Sure. Whatever.

Gia leaned back, lowering her head into one of Jason’s sinks as Michaela wet her hair. Stacia approached her with several bottles of nail polish and asked her to pick one for her pedicure. Absently, she picked a peachy-bronze color and sighed as Michaela began to shampoo her. Gia knew she should relax and enjoy the pampering. She hadn’t had any in the last year. Instead, the worry that the temporary nanny wouldn’t remember to read Tony Jr. a bedtime story distracted her. And the hope that Jason would soon be in a better mood ran a close second.

An hour later, she stared at herself in the mirror, blinking in surprise. With a few snips of the scissors, the brandishing of a blow dryer, and some turns of a curling iron, Michaela had transformed her hair into something beautiful, full of body and shine. Stacia had finished her pedi, and now shaped and buffed her fingernails.

Afterward, she emerged from the bathroom. A baby-doll nightie in a blush color, trimmed with beige lace that would cup her breasts and flirt with her thighs, lay strewn across the bed. A very small thong accompanied it. A pair of new champagne-hued Louboutin stilettos sat on top of their box, their bows glittering, the red soles a bright warning.

“I’m supposed to put all this on?” she asked no one in particular.

“Not yet,” Michaela answered, then turned to her assistant.

Gia caught sight of a pot of wax heating as Stacia set up what looked like a wide massage table and covered it with a clean sheet. Her stomach dropped. Jason really meant everything he’d said. He intended to take her to bed. For that, he’d want her waxed. After all, why shouldn’t he insist on his money’s worth? Remembering how much she’d hurt him and how much she owed him, she eased onto the table, vowing not to give her husband any more of herself than her body.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Jason paced his kitchen. The scents of the savory garlic-herb roasted chicken and vegetables blended with the delicious aroma of yeasty bread. He should be hungry by now. Starved, even. Hell, he couldn’t notice a damn thing but the clock ticking, his dick aching, and that wretched pain only Gia could make him feel gouging his chest.

His wife had chosen money. He’d offered her the funds in desperation, never imagining that she’d take them. Rather, he’d clung to the hope that she had agreed to meet him at the Mexican restaurant because she wanted to resume their marriage. In truth, Jason had been worried that Gia had come to seek a divorce. He’d been prepared to talk fast to convince her otherwise. But never had he imagined that she’d actually take him up on his wretched offer and sell herself.

Apparently, she wasn’t different from the rest, after all.

The only saving grace to this situation was that his mother had been gone when he’d returned home late Sunday. Not surprisingly, she’d taken the cash on his dresser. Later, she’d texted to say that she had found a new friend while consoling herself at Neiman’s. Apparently, the man had invited her to dinner at The French Room. Jason hadn’t seen Samantha since. Her new friend must be “entertaining” her. Hell, if the guy had enough money, he’d probably be husband number five.

Finally, the two beauticians he’d hired to take care of Gia’s personal needs made their way down the stairs, implements all packaged up in their roller bags. He exchanged a few words with the quiet blonde, but didn’t hear a lot beyond the fact that his wife was finished and waiting for him upstairs.

More eager than he wanted to be, Jason paid the women and tipped them amply before he tossed together a dinner tray, added a chilled bottle of wine, and headed up to find his bride.

His heart raced as he reached the closed door. “Gia?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t sound at all happy. He’d given her more than one opportunity to leave, but she’d taken the mercenary path. He refused to feel sorry for her.

Balancing everything in one hand, he turned the knob and opened the door. As soon as he saw her, he nearly dropped the tray. She looked like his fantasies—only better. Her hair hung in loose waves. One of the women had done something that made her skin glow under the lights. Even her toenails shimmered. When he’d bought the miniscule scrap of lace she now wore, he’d imagined how she would look in it and gotten hard as hell. But seeing her in person? Damn. He could picture her spread out across his sheets, her gaze on him, her arms open as he ripped her thong away to expose her smooth, pouting pussy. The “fuck me” shoes made him want to do exactly that. Jason nearly growled with need. But he’d enjoy the sex more if Gia felt half as eager as he did…and if she’d lie to him and say she loved him, like she used to.

Patience.

If Gia wanted a divorce and she wanted to be paid for her freedom, he planned to make her earn every penny of it first. And if he was very lucky, maybe he’d figure out how to get enough of her and move on.

He set the tray on the dresser, still looking her over. “Beautiful.”

She cast her gaze down submissively. Either that or she couldn’t bear to look at him. “Thank you.”

“I brought us some dinner.” He poured the wine, and she took the glass, her expression somewhat guarded. “To…new endings.”

Her face closed up entirely. “Hopefully, a quick one.”

Jason made a noncommittal sound, repressing his urge to get her naked and flat before he put his stamp on her, hold her in his thrall the way she’d done him. Instead, he forced himself to wait. Gia gulped half her glass as if she needed the liquid courage.

Trying not to grit his teeth, he lifted the lid on the dishes, then pointed at the bed. “Sit.”

Slowly, she sat back against a stack of fluffy white pillows and took the plate. “Thank you.”

Their gazes met before hers skittered away.

Holding in a curse, Jason gave her a fork. When she grabbed the far end, refusing to even brush his fingers, his lips tightened. If she had a new aversion to touching him, he’d quickly put a stop to it.

Plate in hand, he sat back on the bed against the grouping of pillows, leaning against the headboard beside her. Digging his fork into his rice, he did his best to focus on the food and act as if nothing happening between them bothered him in the least.

“So, you’ve been dealing with your family. Tell me about the progress you’ve made in bringing your brother’s killer to justice.”

Gia tensed. “There hasn’t been any. My brother’s former partner initially pointed the finger at a thug named Ricky Wayman. A few days later, he recanted and claimed he wasn’t sure, but I know better. Patrick was either scared off or paid off. The day before my brother died, he told my dad that he knew Ricky had something big going down and he intended to stop it. Tony died on Ricky’s turf, so I know damn well who shot my brother.”

“No one has arrested Wayman?”

“They haven’t even brought him in for questioning.” And that obviously infuriated her.

“Don’t the police usually go all out to hunt down a cop killer?”

Something cynical and mad as hell twisted her delicate features. “Usually, yeah. Wayman’s got a sick rep and a lot of firepower.” Fingers gripping her plate until her knuckles turned white, she drew in an angry breath. “I think the brass is already convinced it’s an unwinnable war and it would cost too many lives to bring this one punk to justice. He takes out a lot of other criminals, so…”

“They let him slide.” Jason turned her words over in his head, angry on her behalf. Not only did someone as principled as Gia want the badges she worked with to do their jobs and put criminals behind bars, she expected it. She’d been disillusioned by their failure to act.

“Totally,” she confirmed, no longer eating.

Jason knew damn well how his wife had been spending her time this past year. Since she hadn’t gotten the help she needed from her fellow officers, she’d refused to give up on justice for her brother. “So you’ve spent all your free time tracking Wayman down yourself and trying to prove his guilt, even after I had you put behind a desk.” He sent her a speculative stare. “Your parents don’t know, do they?”

With a roll of her eyes, she admitted, “My dad tried to make me promise that I wouldn’t go after Wayman alone, but my mom is so grief stricken. I have to try and give her whatever comfort I can. That killer behind bars would help.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Jason tried to pull back on his anger. Gia’s sense of good and right wouldn’t allow her to sit this manhunt out. Funny how the determination and rectitude that had drawn him to her had become the very things he wanted to throttle her for.

“I understand.”

Gia hesitated. “You do?”

“It’s hard to see people you care for in pain, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Excruciating.”

Jason couldn’t agree more, and though logic told him that her circumstances shouldn’t matter, he couldn’t ignore her anguish. “Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

She exhaled and seemed to deflate altogether. “I’m not hungry.”

“That isn’t a request.” He sent her a stern glare.

“Of course it isn’t. And people always obey you.”

“Generally, yes. I won’t apologize for it, especially when it’s for your well-being.”

And Jason refused to say another word until she’d consumed at least half of the food on her plate, even giving him a low moan at the tastiness of the bread.

When they’d finished, he took her plate and padded downstairs, leaving the dishes in the sink. His maid would be in come morning to take care of the mess.

He pulled the refrigerator open and lifted one large crystal cup, then grabbed a single spoon from the drawer and headed back upstairs, mentally weighing the evening’s events.

As he made his way to the bedroom again, he was unpleasantly surprised to find Gia no longer in his bed. After setting the items he held aside, he visually swept the room and sighed in relief. She stood at the window and stared out, looking at the sky lit night and the urban sprawl giving way to suburbia farther north. His wife might be physically in the room with him, but she was really a million miles away.

“What’s wrong?”

She jerked back to attention and shook her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

As she turned to face him, her expression looked neutral, all traces of whatever or whomever she’d been thinking about gone. He held in a snarl of frustration.

“Sit for me.”

Dragging her feet, Gia did as he bid, stopping at the edge of the bed. “Naked, I presume? Now that you’ve done your Domly duty and seen to my needs, you’re intending to see to yours, right? Is this the part of the evening where you nail me into the mattress?”

Jason felt his ire rise. Then he caught onto her game. “Trying to make me feel guilty for this arrangement will neither anger nor upset me enough to halt it. I made you an offer. You accepted. End of story.”

She gave him a little huff. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

To hear her admit that she had no idea why he might want to spend time with her bugged the hell out of him. It also told him that she’d given up on them already. Somewhere in the back of his head, he’d known that, but it bothered him all the same. “I have my reasons and I’m not obligated to share them. You’re my submissive for now—”

“Oh, just say it. I’m your whore and you’re getting off on exercising your control over me.”

Jason froze. It took everything inside him not to rise to her bait. “If that’s how you choose to see the situation, I can’t stop you. I merely asked you to sit on the bed. I’m still waiting.”

“Fine.” She tossed herself onto the mattress and sat against the pillows, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Thank you. Now hold your arms up at your sides.”

Her dark eyes flashed suspiciously. She narrowed them as if trying to guess his intent. Finally, she complied, holding them straight out from her shoulders, almost as if opening her arms to him…but not quite.

Jason reached behind his headboard and plucked at a padded wrist cuff, attached to an adjustable chain, then secured it around his wife’s wrist.

Gasping, she drilled him with a shocked stare. “What the hell?”

“We are now sceneing. What should you call me?”

“What the hell, Mr. Denning?” she snarled, jerking her free arm down to her side.

He grabbed it again and brought it to the other cuff. Gia fought him, and Jason dug deep for patience. “Give me your wrist or use your safe word. It’s divorce.”

“You’re being a bastard, Mr. Denning.”

“Well, we can’t all be angels like you. Since opposites attract...” He gave her a tight smile. “In case you’re wondering, I’m not offended. Much meaner people have called me names far worse. Are you saying your safe word or giving yourself over to me?”

The fight left Gia. She lifted her hand to him.

“Just to be clear, you’re choosing to give your power to me, yes?”

“Yes.” She gritted her teeth. “Mr. Denning.”

Even though she’d given him the green light grudgingly, satisfaction still rolled through him. For the first time in nearly a year, he would finally have the gratification he’d craved—and he intended to take it. “Excellent.”

Wrapping his fingers around her forearm, he aligned her wrist with the cuff and snapped it in place. Now she was beautifully at his mercy.

“Are you uncomfortable physically in any way?” he demanded.

“No.”

“Do you have anything you want to say before we get started?”

“No.”

“And your safe word is…” he quizzed.

“Divorce.” Gia sounded as if she worked hard to shove down her anger.

It couldn’t be greater than his own, and he’d get to the bottom of hers when she felt more amenable to conversation. For now, he had something else in mind to remind her once and for all of the way a Dom/sub relationship worked.

“Good.” He reached into his nightstand and pulled out a sleep mask. It worked wonders when he needed shut-eye on bright Texas mornings…or when surly little subs needed an attitude adjustment.

When he lifted the mask to her eyes and fitted the Velcro strip behind her head, she gasped. “Jason, no.”

“Excuse me?” He injected sharp rebuke into his voice.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Denning…”

Now she sounded breathy and afraid, and he backed down immediately. Cradling her face in his hands, he pressed his lips to her ear. “I’m going to take care of you.”

She sucked in a shaky gulp of air. He could almost hear her mentally reviewing the months they’d spent as Master and slave, remembering all the ways he’d seen to her well-being then.

And slowly, her frozen muscles melted a bit. “Thank you.”

So she hadn’t forgotten the manners he’d taught her when playing with him. He smiled.

As he rose from the bed, Jason stepped back to admire Gia all spread out like a sacrifice, arms wide, innocent lace barely hiding her nipples and pussy from him, eyes covered and breath held, awaiting his pleasure. The sparkling shoes with their five-inch heels elongated her sleek legs. The idea of those shoes in the air while he fucked her turned him on.

With a grimace, he adjusted his hard cock in his jeans and made his way to the dresser to retrieve the goodies he’d left there. Once in hand, he sat on the edge of the bed next to her. God, he couldn’t wait for this.

“Open your mouth.”

Her breathing caught before the rate of her respiration picked up. Then slowly, she parted her moist, rosy lips. He’d missed kissing her so much, feeding his cock into that mouth and drowning in the warm heaven…

Shit, he had to stay on track.

He lifted the dish and dipped the spoon inside to gather a generous bite. Then he inched it onto her tongue and waited.

As soon as the taste hit her buds, she wrapped her lips around the spoon with a moan that fired his blood and sucked the utensil clean.

“You like that?” A grin tugged at his lips as he scooped up more of the confection for her.

“It’s amazing,” she hummed, her face lax with pleasure. “You remembered?”

“That chocolate mousse is your favorite, yes. I remember everything.”

She tensed. Jason weighed his next options, but he’d done enough cornering and hounding her for the moment. She knew the score. Now was the time to coax her.

He raised the spoon to her lips again and nudged her wider. Gia didn’t hesitate, but eagerly took the mousse into her mouth once more. “I think that’s the best I’ve ever had.”

Because he’d hunted down a five-star rated chef and paid the man a small fortune to make this just for her. If he was going to coerce her into spending nearly three weeks with him, he had to show her some of the perks. This was a start.

“I think I’d like to try some, too.”

Rather than giving her time to ponder his declaration, Jason set the dish and spoon aside, then reached for the buttons holding the baby-doll together between her breasts. One, two, three, they all came undone without a fight. He pushed the sides of the filmy garment apart and exposed the sight he’d been craving since he’d last taken her on their wedding night.

Beauty came in all shapes and sizes, but he was a breast man. And Gia had just about the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Round, firm, on the large side but not disproportionate. Dusky tips surrounded by inch after inch of unblemished olive skin. Just perfect.

As the cool air caressed Gia, her nipples tightened. His mouth watered. With a feral grin, he dipped his finger into the mousse, then rubbed the dark, sugary cream on her distended tip. So the other didn’t suffer indifference, he covered it as well.

Gia’s small hands curled into fists and she bit her lip, but arched toward him, begging him without a word to ease her ache. Jason gladly complied.

He bent and cradled one breast in his palm, lifting it toward his mouth. The scents of chocolate blended with the succulent musk rising from her skin. As he took one sugary nipple in his mouth, her flavor intoxicated him. She made him dizzy with her sweetness.

Fucking hell, he’d missed Gia. No woman smelled or tasted or affected him the way she did. After nearly two decades of sex for the sake of sex, he knew the difference. And as he laved her peak, licking off every morsel of the chocolate goodness, Jason wondered how he would ever do without her again.

As he sucked on the hard tip of her breast, a whimper slipped from Gia, as if she couldn’t hold her reaction in. He refused to let her. She forgot that he knew her body way too well to hide from him. But he’d remind her.

He nipped at the sensitive crest of her breast, then drew on her, sucking hard. She gasped as she tossed her head back with a thump against the headboard. Before she could absorb the pressure of his mouth, he pulled back enough to grip her wet nipple between his thumb and forefinger. As he squeezed, he latched onto the other breast, capturing the hard tip against his tongue and eating off the chocolate while feeling her nipple harden even more.

“Jason…”

His wife’s voice sounded somewhere between a moan and a plea. He drank it in, letting the little sigh resonate in his head and swirl together with all the unique things about Gia that left him hungering for her. But he had a point to make now that wasn’t about his pleasure—as much as he wished otherwise. Time to remind her exactly who—and what—he was.

Jason pulled back, withdrawing his fingers and lips, removing all stimulation. “Not ‘Jason.’ Try again.”

Her brow furrowed. Her lips pressed together. Gia was confused and frustrated. Clearly, she wanted more pleasure. He withheld. Maybe now she could understand a fraction of what he’d endured for nearly the past year.

“Mr. Denning,” she finally gasped out, arching her breasts even closer to him. “Please…”

“Better,” he praised before he took her nipples in his mouth again, one after the other, savoring the soft skin of her breasts with his fingertips.

The starch that had stiffened her muscles since she’d walked through his door melted more with every pull of his mouth on the candy-hard crests. He could smell her now. The tang of her arousal filled his nostrils and made his blood boil. Every time he had Gia under his power, she fired him up like no woman ever had. Feeling her now warmed him like the sun after a long, cold winter.

But after what seemed like a thousand freezing seasons without her, he needed more.

With a growl, Jason fitted his hands around the little straps over her hips and ripped her thong away. He lay his palm over her bare pussy, letting her feel the claim he had placed here long ago. Then he ground the heel of his hand in a tight circle, directly over her clit. To his great satisfaction, she spread her legs wider to him, granting him even more access to her secret flesh.

He’d been wrong earlier. His wife didn’t just intoxicate him; she held him spellbound.

“Gia, baby, I’ve missed you,” he blurted.

He nearly bit his tongue off. No way should he admit that. The truth gave her power. He had to watch himself, somehow not get lost in her.

With a mewl, she lifted her hips to him. He sank his fingers between the velvety folds of her cunt, dipped his fingers into her wetness, and he caressed her clit. His slow rub had her writhing as he awakened the nerve endings under the hood of her flesh. Then he withdrew.

“I’ve missed you, too. Don’t stop,” she begged.

Wondering if she meant that or merely said what she thought he wanted to hear, Jason massaged her clit again, more circular motions that hardened the little bud and had her bucking closer for more. “Tell me who else makes you feel this way.”

“No one,” she breathed out.

Gia had admitted as much before they married, and he’d hoped the same was still true. “Who else has touched you like this in the last year?”

As he brushed her nerve-laden bundle again, she whimpered. “No one.”

“You haven’t let anyone pet this pretty pussy since me?” He wanted to hear her admit it again. He ached to believe it.

Jason softened his touch, concentrating the rhythmic cadence exactly where she wanted it, taking her closer and closer to the edge of pleasure.

“No,” she gasped out. “Even when I saw you with other women in the newspaper, I couldn’t…” Her thighs went taut, and she gyrated, trying to take him deeper. “I couldn’t do it.”

She thought he’d been unfaithful? That grated on him. It would probably be wise to let her think it, but where his wife was concerned, he had yet to make a damn logical decision.

“I attended benefits and art showings with ‘appropriate’ dates for one good cause after another. I smiled as photographers snapped pictures. I did not take anyone to bed.”

Gia turned her head away and tried to draw her legs together to shake off his touch. “You don’t have to lie.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “So why would I bother? Nothing in our prenuptial agreement prevents me from fucking someone else. But I didn’t.”

Around the edges of the mask, he could see her brows furrow together. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why?” He ripped the mask away. “Because you think I’m a deceitful playboy who chases one piece of ass after another?”

She blinked, readjusting to the light and focusing on him. “I wouldn’t have married you if I thought that.”

Jason raised a brow at her. “Do you think I cheated because you’re not special enough to inspire fidelity?”

“N-no.”

He sat back on his heels. The denial had come out, but he didn’t believe it. He wasn’t even sure she did.

“Then tell me why you think I’ve been playing musical beds.”

Rolling her shoulders back and crossing her legs, she shut her eyes and refused to meet his gaze. “I assumed you’d moved on with your life.”

The way she’d moved on with hers. Damn it. He should probably do the same, but now that he had Gia here, he wasn’t convinced he could ever let her go.

Jason grabbed her chin. “Look at me.”

Her mouth twisted and her nose reddened as she fought tears. “Can’t you just take what you want already?”

So she could hate him for it later? No. She seemed to think he merely saw her as a body to fuck. Or that he didn’t care about any pleasure but his own. If they were going to make any progress in the future, he needed to set the record straight now.

Hovering over her, he plunged one hand into her hair and tugged until he captured her gaze and her mouth trembled directly under his. He thrust two fingers into her weeping pussy and prodded her clit with his thumb. As she gasped and her body opened to him again, almost as if against her will, he slammed his lips over the soft velvet of hers and fused their mouths together.

Hell, he couldn’t inhale her fast enough, take her deep enough. As he shoved his way into her mouth, sweeping inside for a devouring kiss, Jason reveled in the fact that he touched her, penetrated her. He meant to do it again—frequently—lap at her flavor and drink in her reaction. He’d listen to each little breath and eat up every inch of her surrender over and over until she was completely in his hands and under his control again.

Pumping his fingers in and out of her as he swept through her mouth, Jason waited until an aroused glow suffused his wife, until she held her breath and her legs twitched, until she fought her restraints and kissed him with abandon. Then he jerked away, staring hard at her beautiful flushed face.

“No…” She pleaded with him.

He merely raised a brow at her.

“Mr. Denning,” she added hastily. “Please.”

Fuck, she was killing him. But this lesson had to take precedence. He might not respect her choice to come here for money, but he refused to let her believe he saw her as a whore.

Shaking his head, he tried not to soften in the face of her entreating stare. “You’re my submissive and my wife.”

“Yes, but—”

“No,” he corrected. “I have not touched another woman since our wedding night. And to set the record straight, if I intended to use you simply for my pleasure, nothing would have stopped me from fucking you right now, especially not the resentment you’d feel afterward. I want you to think about that, Mrs. Denning. I’ll be back.”