The Rejected Wife: Chapter 8

‘You shouldn’t have paid for the books.’ She slides onto the passenger seat of my car. I make sure she has her seat belt on before I shut the door, then walk around and get into the driver’s seat.

‘I absolutely should have.’ I turn to her. ‘It was my pleasure, Cilla.’

‘Cilla?’ She blinks slowly. ‘Are we on nickname basis already?’

‘Aren’t we?’ I allow myself a small smirk. I pleasured her, tasted her, and watched her come. I saw the delight in her features when she picked out the books she wanted. And the happiness in her eyes as she perused the selection in the bookstore. So yeah, I think I’m allowed to have a nickname for her. I don’t say all this aloud. But surely, she must read my mind, for she blushes.

‘A gentleman wouldn’t be so crass as to allude to what happened earlier between us.’ She waves an admonishing finger under my nose.

‘Ah, but I’m not a gentleman, am I?’

‘You took me to the most exclusive coffee shop in the country, then to a hidden London bookshop, which I had no idea existed. And shut both of them down in advance so we could have privacy. I’d say there is a gentlemanly streak in you.’

‘I did it so I could have my wicked way with you,’ I say bluntly.

‘Oh, my God.’ She throws up her hands. ‘Do you have no filter?’

I laugh. ‘Was that too much?’

She rubs at her temple. ‘I want to say yes, but strangely, I find your brand of being this open’—she waves her hand between us—’strangely endearing and definitely arousing.’

‘I find you arousing.’

The blush deepens on her face and extends down her neckline. ‘Stop.’ She fans herself, then looks away before clearing her throat. ‘Where are we going next?’

It’s a clear attempt to change the topic, but I let her have it.

‘I want to take you to my place.’

The pulse at the base of her neck speeds up. “You did say you wanted me to spend the night with you. So, I shouldn’t be surprised that you want to bring me to your place. It’s just—” she laughs lightly, “it feels so intimate.”

‘It is intimate that I want to take you home.” I shoot her a sideways glance. “What I feel for you is very intimate.”

I don’t bother to hold back the emotions I already feel for her. The one thing my life in the Marines has taught me is that life is short and when you find something or someone who makes you feel the way I feel for her, you don’t want to waste any time.

Her eyes flash. Her lips part. Guess she heard what I’m trying to convey to her. I have a feeling she reciprocates what I’m sensing. That this chemistry, this connection I sense between us goes both ways. I have an idea that she wants more; I want it, too. But I want to make sure I take each step forward with her with great intent. Make each move carefully, so I don’t spook her.

No matter that being surrounded by her scent in the enclosed space of my car is playing havoc with my libido. No matter that she made it clear that she wants me. For the first time in my life, I want to go slow, even as the primal part of me wants to take her to my bed and bury myself inside her.

I turn the wheel of my car and take the turnoff leading to my place.

‘A penthouse on the top floor of the tallest residential building in the city?” She looks out at the view of the city spreading out before us. “Dare I say how predictable this is?’

I hear the laughter in her voice and acknowledge it. “Couldn’t resist being on top of the world.” My ego is my weakness. And I have no problem admitting that.

I pop the cork on a champagne bottle. The sound catches her attention, and she glances at me over her shoulder. I pour the bubbly liquid into two flutes and walk around the bar toward her.

When I proffer her a glass, she smiles. ‘What are we celebrating?’

‘You.’ I clink my glass with hers. ‘To the sliding doors of the tube train which brought the most beautiful woman in the world to me.’

She laughs a little, but her eyes gleam suspiciously.

‘You going to cry, baby?’ The endearment slips out, and it sounds so natural. It feels so natural. So perfect.

Like I’ve been spending my entire life up to now waiting to call her that. Like every challenge in my life was so I could overcome it and get to her. All the times my life was spared when I went on a mission for my country were so I could bring her here to my place, under my roof, and do everything in my power to make her feel special. For she’s mine. Mine. Only MINE.

She shakes her head, then brings the glass to her lips and takes a sip. Her eyes widen. She licks her pink lips, and it sends a flurry of heat racing down my spine to my already stiffening dick. I ignore it and focus on the pleasure that ripples across her features. ‘Wow, that is…incredible.’

‘It is, huh?’ Seeing her relish the taste of the champagne I’ve poured for her is the most amazing feeling in the world. ‘I’ve been saving this for a special occasion.’

‘Oh?’ She tilts her head. ‘Is that what this is?’

‘Isn’t it?’ I take another sip. Her gaze is drawn to my mouth. When I lick my lips, the pulse at the base of her throat speeds up.

“You’re starting to sound like such a player.” She gives me the side-eye. “Makes me wonder what game you’re up to.”

“No game.” Then, because I know exactly how it’s going to impact her, I lick the drops on my lips.

She draws in a sharp breath.

“Now, that was me playing.” I scan her face, memorizing every line. “But I have a feeling you’re enjoying it, too…’

Her face flames. Damn, she’s so cute when she’s embarrassed.

‘You, Tyler Davenport, are trying to seduce me.’

“Am I succeeding?’

She tips up her chin. ‘Thought you said you didn’t want to sleep with me?’

I shake my head. ‘I said, I want to get to know you better first.’

‘Hmm…’ She pouts. ‘You think you know me enough now?’

Not nearly, but taking in the moue her lips make, my cock signals it can’t be avoided any longer. I toss back my champagne, then urge her flute up to her lips. ‘Drink up, baby.’

She takes another sip, and another. ‘Can I save the rest for later?’

Without removing my gaze from hers, I take her flute, then pivot and walk to the bar. I place both of our glasses on it. When I turn, it’s to find she’s still standing by the window.

I quirk my finger at her. ‘Come ‘ere.’