“Does watching do it for you?”
“You’re doing it for me right now, sweetheart.”
The black fabric slithered to the floor and she straightened, meeting his eyes boldly. He let his gaze trail over her—the graceful line of her shoulders, high breasts, the gentle curve of her waist and hips, the lean muscles of her thighs and calves, pretty toes tipped in gleaming pink polish.
She made no move to cover herself, but stood still under his visual exploration. “Like what you see?”
“As I said, you’re incredible.” His voice emerged a hoarse rasp. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Beautiful.”
Tossing her hair behind her shoulders, she turned her back on him and sauntered the few steps to his bed. He watched the play of muscle in her buttocks and thighs as she climbed onto the mattress and lay back on the pile of pillows in a centerfold pose. She patted the bed beside her and slanted a flirtatious look at him from beneath her lashes. “So, McMillian, what’s your wildest fantasy?”
***
Her hands shook, nerves jumping wildly throughout her entire being.
Jessica jammed her arms into her light jacket. Her ballet flats skidded on the foyer’s polished tile and she grabbed for the wall to steady herself. Her keys clattered at her feet and she sucked in a long breath. She needed to calm down. Panicking would get her nowhere. For all she knew, he didn’t even know yet, hadn’t seen what she’d done.
Everything was going to be just fine. She’d see Tom, tell him about the baby, give him her version of events.
Considering who and what she was handing him on a goddamn silver platter, she damn well expected him to be generous with an offer of immunity too.
She lowered to an awkward squat to grab her keys. She took another long breath, calming the apprehension twisting her gut. Trying to laugh off her worries, she smoothed her hair and swung the door open.
Oh God. The oxygen whooshed from her lungs in a muffled moan.
He stood on her doorstep, a malevolent smile curling his hard mouth. “Hello, Jessie.”
She took a step back. The keys bit into her palm and bile pushed into her throat. “You—”
“Going somewhere?” He stepped inside, and when she caught sight of the two men behind him, her stomach revolted.
She spun. Her shoes slid on the floor again and a sinewy hand grabbed her arm, shoved her into the wall. The skin split on her cheekbone. Pain shot through her face. Her hand instinctively went to her belly, but he held her too forcefully, keeping her from covering the unborn child.
He pushed her harder against the wall, his mouth close to her ear. Warm breath washed over her neck, a twisted echo of other times she’d been this close to him. She struggled for air, the baby kicking in protest of the tight compression of her womb. He chuckled and nausea churned in her gut.
“Did you really think I’d let you screw me over, Jessie?” He coiled her arm up behind her back, darts of agony shooting along her nerves. She whimpered, his hips pressed against her buttocks, the solid wall of his chest preventing her from moving, from fighting, from escaping. He pushed her arm higher. She felt a tearing at her shoulder, and pain flooded her. He shoved harder. “Did you?”
“P-please,” she said, her voice a harsh whisper. Panic sizzled in her, dots dancing at the edges of her vision. Her lungs clawed for oxygen. “The baby—”
“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about the baby, Jessie,” he murmured, dragging his tongue down her neck in a mockery of former caresses. “What do you think we came for?”
***
“Oh, I think this ranks right up there.”
McMillian’s raspy voice filtered through the rush of blood in Celia’s ears. Maybe he hadn’t been able to tell her legs shook from anxiety, that she’d had to push the outrageous words through trembling lips.
The burn of his gaze on her set off a different tremor within her body, a vibrating expectancy that bubbled and fizzed
“You’re doing it for me right now, sweetheart.”
The black fabric slithered to the floor and she straightened, meeting his eyes boldly. He let his gaze trail over her—the graceful line of her shoulders, high breasts, the gentle curve of her waist and hips, the lean muscles of her thighs and calves, pretty toes tipped in gleaming pink polish.
She made no move to cover herself, but stood still under his visual exploration. “Like what you see?”
“As I said, you’re incredible.” His voice emerged a hoarse rasp. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Beautiful.”
Tossing her hair behind her shoulders, she turned her back on him and sauntered the few steps to his bed. He watched the play of muscle in her buttocks and thighs as she climbed onto the mattress and lay back on the pile of pillows in a centerfold pose. She patted the bed beside her and slanted a flirtatious look at him from beneath her lashes. “So, McMillian, what’s your wildest fantasy?”
***
Her hands shook, nerves jumping wildly throughout her entire being.
Jessica jammed her arms into her light jacket. Her ballet flats skidded on the foyer’s polished tile and she grabbed for the wall to steady herself. Her keys clattered at her feet and she sucked in a long breath. She needed to calm down. Panicking would get her nowhere. For all she knew, he didn’t even know yet, hadn’t seen what she’d done.
Everything was going to be just fine. She’d see Tom, tell him about the baby, give him her version of events.
Considering who and what she was handing him on a goddamn silver platter, she damn well expected him to be generous with an offer of immunity too.
She lowered to an awkward squat to grab her keys. She took another long breath, calming the apprehension twisting her gut. Trying to laugh off her worries, she smoothed her hair and swung the door open.
Oh God. The oxygen whooshed from her lungs in a muffled moan.
He stood on her doorstep, a malevolent smile curling his hard mouth. “Hello, Jessie.”
She took a step back. The keys bit into her palm and bile pushed into her throat. “You—”
“Going somewhere?” He stepped inside, and when she caught sight of the two men behind him, her stomach revolted.
She spun. Her shoes slid on the floor again and a sinewy hand grabbed her arm, shoved her into the wall. The skin split on her cheekbone. Pain shot through her face. Her hand instinctively went to her belly, but he held her too forcefully, keeping her from covering the unborn child.
He pushed her harder against the wall, his mouth close to her ear. Warm breath washed over her neck, a twisted echo of other times she’d been this close to him. She struggled for air, the baby kicking in protest of the tight compression of her womb. He chuckled and nausea churned in her gut.
“Did you really think I’d let you screw me over, Jessie?” He coiled her arm up behind her back, darts of agony shooting along her nerves. She whimpered, his hips pressed against her buttocks, the solid wall of his chest preventing her from moving, from fighting, from escaping. He pushed her arm higher. She felt a tearing at her shoulder, and pain flooded her. He shoved harder. “Did you?”
“P-please,” she said, her voice a harsh whisper. Panic sizzled in her, dots dancing at the edges of her vision. Her lungs clawed for oxygen. “The baby—”
“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about the baby, Jessie,” he murmured, dragging his tongue down her neck in a mockery of former caresses. “What do you think we came for?”
***
“Oh, I think this ranks right up there.”
McMillian’s raspy voice filtered through the rush of blood in Celia’s ears. Maybe he hadn’t been able to tell her legs shook from anxiety, that she’d had to push the outrageous words through trembling lips.
The burn of his gaze on her set off a different tremor within her body, a vibrating expectancy that bubbled and fizzed
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