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He tried to relax his breathing, tried to sound reasonable and in control. “You said you couldn’t come.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Seriously, let’s just drop it. I’ve accepted it. You need to do the same.”

“Do I look like a man who gives in easily?” As his mind screamed obscenities, he forced her back on the bed and moved, skimming down that delicious body until his face was at her stomach.

“Waaa ... stop!” Her voice came out shrill and panicked, causing him to pause and look up.

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

An excellent question. He should be packing his bags and getting the hell out of here. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I … err … don’t do that.” She sounded nervous, almost anxious.

He ran a finger under the line of her panties, begging for a chance to feel her again, his mouth wanting the taste of her on his tongue. “Don’t do that, or haven’t done that?”

“Both.”

“Julia. Trust me.”

Her mouth worked, indecision in her eyes, and then she nodded.

Brad slowly rolled down her panties, his eyes feasting on her skin as it was unveiled. A thin line of hair, cut short, leading to the lips between her legs, her knees stubbornly together, resisting when he pulled them apart. And then she was before him, her eyes large, her body open. And she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She had come apart underneath his mouth, his muscles contracting, her voice breaking, legs trembling, sex throbbing underneath his tongue. It had happened quickly, her body tuned and ready, needy for stimulation that had never been given. He didn’t know what her ex-boyfriends had done with her, but they had never taken the time to care for her properly. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to stand when he was done, to step back, to go to the closet and dress. He ran his hand along the hard ridge of his cock, the ache in his balls surprising, given his morning shower. He stuffed it into pants and grinned, thinking of her moans, her peak, the way she had called his name when she came.

He walked back into the room, his eyes trailing over her body, relaxed on the sheets, a lazy smile across her face. And he wondered how he would survive two more days with her. Because f**king her wasn’t an option. Not with the roller coaster his mind was on. Not with the risks that waited for them back at the firm. She rolled slightly, her naked body curving, and he felt his c**k harden again.

Two days.

Might as well be an eternity.

the path to hell

Twelve hours later.

If the devil had a name, it would be Alexis. She was pure sex, pure temptation, and could get him off within fifteen minutes. And now, he was going straight to hell.

It was necessary. He couldn’t be around Julia any longer, not without lying her down and taking what he really wanted. He needed a release, a distraction. Something to remind him who he was and what he liked—both things Alexis knew very well.

He hadn’t planned on seeing Alexis this trip. But Julia had challenged him, wanting to see Vegas ‘De Luca-style.’ And if a strip club experience was what she wanted, then Saffire was the place to go.

Justification was a strong tool. He knew that, knew the path his c**k was insistent on him taking. He could have brought her somewhere else—visited a girly martini bar and one of the hot clubs. But instead they were heading down the Strip, toward Saffire, his muscles tightening in anticipation. He texted Alexis, alerting her to their arrival. She would know what to do, how to distract Julia while she handled his needs. And then they could leave, his body drained, his mind free, and he could return to playing the gentleman he wasn’t.

The car slowed, rumbling over the gravel, until it came to a stop before Saffire’s red doors.

Hell. He had arrived. His c**k awoke, thickening in his pants, and he turned to smile at Julia.

He f**ked Alexis without mercy, getting his fill, but making sure she was satisfied before pulling out. She dropped to her knees, taking him into her mouth and swallowing every bit of him, her eyes on his. Watching. Analyzing. The orgasm should have released his tension, lulled him into a calm and controlled state, but it didn’t work. He was still frustrated, on edge, her body not fulfilling him in the way that it normally did, his mind still wound tightly.

And Alexis picked up on it. “You’ve never f**ked me like that before.”

“Sure I have.” He zipped up his pants, avoiding her critical eyes.

“No, not that ... hungry. Is it from being around her?”

He teased one of her ni**les. “You sound a little jealous.”

She slapped his hand away. “I don’t care about you enough to be jealous. I just don’t know why you’re wasting your time with that lily-white baby when we both know what you need. And it ain’t her.”

Brad watched her, the line of her muscles, the length of her hair. She was exactly like most of the women he f**ked. And nothing like Julia.

Alexis was right. What he needed was a woman who knew her sexuality. Who was open and forthcoming about what she wanted and from whom she would get it. He needed a woman who thought nothing of sucking his c**k outside a restaurant, one who was confident enough to share him with another woman. That was what he—or rather, his body—needed.

His mind wanted something else entirely. Someone he could take to functions, wine and dine, engage in meaningful conversation with. Someone who would accept him despite his last name and the skeletons in his closet.

The problem was that they were colliding ideals, qualities that would never be in the same woman. And neither matched Julia. Not the sexual willingness, or the life partner. She was too pure for him, too young. She would take one look at the real Brad and take off for parts unknown.

Alexis tilted her head back and blew a ring into the dark room. “Does she know where you are right now?”

“No. I assume you told Montana to keep her busy.” That was probably going to be a problem. He would have to tell her—deception not part of this game. How she reacted would be telling. But even if she ran—even if she went crazy and cursed him to eternity—it would be better than if he had weakened and slept with her.

If he had f**ked her, laid her down and ran his c**k over her body? Pressed against her sweet pu**y and pushed deeper with his cock? Felt that hot bundle of muscles squeeze and tighten, slow thrusting inside of her until they both came? It would have been disastrous. For both of their jobs, for her innocence, and for his sanity. Better that he released his sexual tension with Alexis.


Tags: Alessandra Torre Innocence Romance