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But when I think about hurting her, about crushing that innocent light in her eyes, my stomach revolts. The truth is, I'm starting to crave her smiles, her sweet kisses, the way she looks at me like I matter.
And that makes me hate her even more.
Before I can stop myself, I lean toward her, drawn by some magnetic pull I don't want to analyze. My hand slides behind her neck, tangling in those soft curls. This will show her, show them all, how easily she can be manipulated.
But when my lips touch hers, everything shifts. She melts against me with a small gasp that shoots straight through my body. Her fingers curl into my shirt, pulling me closer. The taste of strawberries lingers on her tongue.
I meant to dominate, to prove my control, but her eager response sets my blood on fire. My other hand finds her waist, tugs her against me, and she arches into me.
The heat between us builds faster than I anticipated. Need courses in my blood. My hands slide down her sides, testing, exploring. She shivers under my touch but doesn't pull away. Instead, she presses closer, her fingers curling into my shirt. It ignites the fire inside me even hotter.
This isn’t supposed to be like this. I’m supposed to be the one in control, the one playing her. Instead, I'm the one fighting not to lose myself in her.
She tilts her head back as my lips find her neck. The scent of flowers clings to her skin, intoxicating. I trail kisses down her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. Her small gasp when I find a sensitive spot drives me wild.
Fuck. I need to have her. I’m powerless to stop.
"Tell me to stop." The words come out rough, desperate. I need her to push me away.
But Jenna's hands slide up my chest, tentative yet eager. "I don't want you to stop."
I capture her mouth again, harder this time. She matches my intensity, opening for me with a soft moan that shoots straight through to my already rock-hard cock. My fingers tangle in her hair, freeing more curls from their tie.
She's responsive to every touch, every kiss. When my hand slips under her shirt to caress bare skin, she arches into me with innocent abandon. There's no pretense in her reactions, no calculation, just pure, unfiltered desire.
It's addictive, this power to make her tremble. But more dangerous is how much I'm affected by her honest responses, her complete trust in me. I should feel triumphant about seducing her, about taking what Ronan could have had.
Instead, I'm the one being undone by each breathy sigh, each touch of her hands exploring my chest. I’m quickly sinking and I can’t stop from drowning.
7
JENNA
Ifeel like I’m living in a dream. A perfect, romantic dream.
The picnic blanket beneath us is soft, and the spring breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers from my gardens.
Blaise has pushed up my shirt and bra, exposing my breasts. I feel like I should be embarrassed, but an urgent need has me arching into his touch.
"You're beautiful," Blaise whispers against my neck as he rubs the palm of his hand over my nipples, making my entire body tingle. I’ve never felt anything like it, like every cell in my body is alive, vibrating.
In all the years I’ve pined for Ronan, I’d never felt anything close to this. My yearning was always just in my chest. A childlike crush. But he’s never noticed me. For years I've watched Ronan walk past me like I'm part of the scenery. I'm just another servant, invisible unless I'm useful. But Blaise sees me, really sees me.
He dips his head, his tongue laving over my nipple, and oh, my God. A moan rips from me as pleasure shoots straight to my center.
“You okay?” His green eyes search mine.
I nod, unable to find my voice. My heart pounds against my ribs. I've never been touched like this, never felt so wanted. The few fantasies I'd had about Ronan seem childish now.
Blaise's lips find mine again, and I melt into him. His kiss is hungry, demanding, making my head spin. My fingers seek to touch his skin as he’s touching mine. I push the hem up, splaying my hands on his chest. The muscle is hard, the skin warm. This is real. This is what it feels like to be desired, to have someone's complete attention.
"Tell me what you want," he breathes against my ear.
"You," I whisper back, a little shocked not just at the intensity of need I’m experiencing, but at how easily I’m going with it. No hesitation. No doubt. I want this. I want Blaise.
I lose myself in Blaise's touch, my mother's words echoing in my mind. She always told me that true love would feel like floating and falling all at once. That when the right person came along, I'd know it in my bones. She’d know. She always said my father was the one true love of her life.
Blaise's fingers trace my collarbone, and I shiver.