Page 64 of Point of Contention

“Rylan,” I growled.

She reached the kitchen island and turned toward me, dropping her head but not her gaze. She looked up at me beneath her eyelashes, watching me as I stalked toward her.

“On the island, Ms. Blake,” I said.

Her lips pulled into a wicked grin, then she climbed onto a bar stool and pulled herself up onto the island.

“Kneel.”

She did as instructed. As she chewed the thumbnail of one hand, the other hand drifted down to rest atop her thigh.

I circled the island, watching her. “Spread your knees.”

She did so eagerly, but it wasn’t enough. I stopped in front of her and placed my hands on her knees. Electricity sparked at the places our skin connected.

She sucked in a breath at my touch.

I smirked and met her gaze. “I know exactly how you feel.”

Pushing her legs wider, I smiled at the wetness already gathering in the gusset of her panties. “There. That’s better.” I looked up into her eyes, then cupped her cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

Rylan’s eyes softened and she swallowed hard, but she didn’t respond, didn’t return the sentiment. Her silence tightened a fist around my heart.

Her stomach growled, bringing my focus back to the task at hand. I raised my eyebrows and dropped my hand. “You haven’t been eating?” Turning away from her, I opened the refrigerator. Had I been thinking, I would have ordered delivery, but I’d been so consumed by her that I’d done nothing but focus on her for the entire ride across town.

“It’s just been…” She trailed off and I looked back at her over my shoulder. “It’s been a rough few days?”

I nodded.

“Weeks,” she whispered so quietly I barely caught the admission.

I bit back a smile and surveyed the items in the fridge. It had been a rough few weeks indeed.

My staff kept me stocked with food and drinks, but everything needed preparation. I had nothing that would be quick and easy—until I opened the deli drawer.

“Cheese and charcuterie?” I asked.

“Not what I had in mind.”

I looked back at her over my shoulder and raised my eyebrows.

“Sir,” she said. “That’s not what I had in mind,Sir.”

My cock twitched and I closed my eyes on a long blink, then returned my attention to the task at hand. I selected a few cheeses and some prosciutto and set them on the counter. From the cabinet, I grabbed a jar of petite cornichons, some fig spread, and a sleeve of water crackers. This would be a good start; I’d make sure Rylan had a full meal soon.

Without looking at her, I retrieved a wood cutting board and began arranging the meat and cheeses on the board. “Touch those beautiful breasts for me.”

It took every ounce of my restraint to focus on the task at hand when, from the corner of my eye, she reached up to massage herself.

“Take off the bra.”

I smiled as she did as she was told, then tossed the black bra at me. It bounced off my arm and fell to the floor at my feet. I side-eyed her and she smirked, cocking an eyebrow playfully as she massaged her tits. My gaze fell to her hands and she arched her back, teasing her nipples between thumb and forefinger until they were peaked and flushed.

My mouth watered, but I returned my attention to the charcuterie platter. “Wet your fingertips, Rylan.”

I fought the urge to watch her bring her fingers to her mouth, instead focusing on spooning some fig spread into a small pinch bowl. “No, my love. Not with your mouth.”

She gasped and I chuckled.