I wanted so badly to twist the collar of her shirt, pull her into me, crash my lips on hers, and fuck her against the wall. More than that—I knew that it was what she probably needed.

“Snowflake,” I warned, my voice a soft growl. She squeezed both her thighs together against my leg, riding it, her eyes cool and daring, her movements so subtle I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or not. I swallowed hard as she found a hesitant, slow rhythm. I couldn’t push her away. Other than the very simple fact I didn’t want to, she was also a rape victim. Shutting her down would be the kiss of death to our relationship. The choice was mine to make. Six million bucks or her pussy. It sounded like an easy choice, though it was anything but.

“Bane,” she breathed, so close to my mouth, and my dick twitched between us, slapping her stomach. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I pulled my face away, but just to show her she was not alone in this attraction, I pressed my thigh against her pussy, pushing my knee north, putting pressure on her clit. I felt her slit open through her jammies. Her eyes rolled inside their sockets and pre-cum glued my hard-on to my briefs.

“Kiss me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I told you why. You deserve better than a bastard like me.”

“But you’re my bastard.”

I tsked. “I’m everyone’s bastard, Jesse, and therein lies the problem.”

“I don’t mind sharing. It’s not about you. It’s about me.” She was grinding against me so hard, and I was pushing into her more and more, my back against the wall. Technically, I wasn’t breaking any rules. I wasn’t kissing her. I wasn’t fucking her, and I sure as hell wasn’t seducing her. But in every other sense, I was neck-deep in shit, and it was the first time I actually acknowledged it. Because whether it was in the contract or not, the way my knee kept rubbing and pushing against her puffy clit was anything but professional.

“If you don’t kiss me now, I’ll stop,” she whispered into my neck, so much smaller than me.

I breathed through my nose, my lips pinched.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.

“Don’t stop.” The words fell from my mouth, strangled.

“Cut the beard.”

“Dafuq?”

“You heard me. Cut the beard, Bane. You’re not your father. Stop hiding.” Her thighs clamped against my leg, and I knew that she was close. I might as well have shot my load straight into her PJ’s, because that shit was more erotic than any fuck I’d had in the last three years.

“No,” I grunted.

“Then I’ll stop.”

“Do what you have to do.” I pretended to smirk. I wasn’t one to negotiate with terrorists, no matter how hot they were and how hard they made my dick. But when her thighs left mine, and I felt how damp and warm my leg was, how I missed her stomach pressing against my cock, I jerked her back into me.

“I’ll cut the beard.” What the fuck? Where were my balls? Probably in the same place I’d left my brain, because I was very clearly shitting all over six million dollars.

Her thighs were about to clasp my leg again when the door flew open, and I almost stumbled down. That’s what you get for letting a borderline-teenager dry hump you into oblivion and back. Jesse straightened her posture, her cheeks all flushed mid-orgasm-y, when Darren peeked sheepishly from the corridor.

“Jethy?”

I wanted to yank his tongue out for ruining one of the hottest moments of my life with his lisp and lemur eyes. Snowflake gathered her hair and blinked away the lust from her eyes, tilting her chin up.

“Yeah, Darren?”

“Dinner is almost ready. I wondered if…oh. Ah, Bane.”

Now he was inside the room, facing me, with Jesse in the middle, which meant that there was still some space between us, because apparently she didn’t allow her stepdad to come anywhere close to her, either.

“Do you guys know each other?” Jesse looked between us, her face falling. I didn’t know whether Darren figured out what we were doing or not. I was too busy mentally smashing his head against a rock for having the discretion of a fucking brick.

“Yeah. Darren and I met at city hall. I recently purchased a hotel, and he was there doing the usual rich asshole paperwork.” I recovered quickly, especially considering eighty-five percent of my blood was still in my dick.

That seemed to pacify her, and her posture eased. Ironically, that only made me feel like even more of a bastard. She turned around back to him.

“Thank you, Darren, but the answer is—as always—no. Now excuse me while I go to the ladies’ room.” Her cheeks pinked, and my fucked-up mind convinced me that she was going to go rub her clit to take the edge off. Also, this just in: I was going to jerk off tonight until my dick fell off. For the first time in years.