Chapter One
“Is there a reason you’re not on your knees?”
Jessica McNeil met her ex-husband’s gaze as he strode from the back of the house towards her. For the tenth time, she wondered what the hell she was doing here in the home they’d once shared. Two years ago she’d promised herself she’d never walk, or crawl, through the front door again. Obviously she’d forgotten the past and lost her mind.
Stephen stopped several feet away from her and looked at her. She had to tip her head back to look at his face. His blue eyes were nearly the colour of midnight. His shoulders were set ruggedly, and his legs spread about shoulder-width apart. His hair, still as black as coal, was longer than she remembered. It now hung past his collar, and it was styled rakishly, only adding to his devilish good looks.
He folded his arms across his chest and waited patiently. Patience had always been one of his hallmarks and something she lacked. She was headstrong, obstinate, disobedient and, as he’d told her once, those were her better qualities.
Jessica locked her knees. Until he heard her out, she wasn’t going to kneel for him, wasn’t going to bow her head or clasp her hands behind her back. She was at a big enough disadvantage as it was, with him towering several inches over her, making her feel much smaller, vulnerable.
At one time his size had been a source of comfort for her. She’d felt protected by him, rather than intimidated.
“Your choice,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. “Mrs. Boxley said you asked for five minutes.” He looked at his watch. “You have four minutes left.”
If she obeyed, if she knelt, she suspected he’d give her more time. But unless she did, he clearly meant what he said. She had five minutes. He hadn’t invited her in, and she realised he was making sure she understood she wasn’t a welcome, or even wanted, guest. On the other hand, she supposed she was lucky he’d even allowed her across the threshold. If the housekeeper hadn’t answered the door, chances were Jessica would still be on the stoop instead of in the foyer.
He took two steps closer to her. The sound of his boots was solid on the slate tile floor. He stood barely a foot away and she inhaled his scent; that of a rain-drenched forest on a winter’s night, cool and crisp.
With the back of his hand, he swept the hair away from her neck and tucked it behind her ear. He pressed his knuckles lightly against her skin. “Your pulse is racing, Jess.”
Jess . He hadn’t called her Jess since their first couple of dates. After that, it had been sub , or if she was in trouble, Jessica . It would be easy to forget why she was here and just surrender. Truth was, she wanted to do exactly that. Sex had always been good between them. She could turn into him, kiss his hand, and he’d have her naked beneath him in less than a minute. Instead, she curled her hand around his wrist. “I just ended my third relationship since our divorce.” She drew a breath and decided to be a bit more honest. “Or rather, my third relationship since our divorce just crashed and burned.”
“Should I say congratulations? Or offer my sympathies?”
“This time, I got dumped.”
“So you want me to make you feel better about yourself? No worries. You’re still hot, still sexy. I’ll prove it to you.” His motions fluid, he moved his hand lower, despite her grip on his wrist.
She should have remembered how ineffective her strength was against his.
He slid the top button of her blouse through its hole.
Her skin felt heated and her nipples had instinctively responded, becoming hardened little nubs pressing against her bra.
“Would a quick fuck suit you? Over the back of the settee? Or
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