The Lover’s Secret (No Exceptions #1)(7)
Author: J.C. Reed

My lips curled into a smile as I lightly clinked my glass against his. “Thanks.” I took a sip and let the tasty, bubbly liquid roll over my tongue. It was sweet without being overly sweet, and it reminded me of grape juice, with just a hint of jasmine.

“Nonalcoholic,” he explained. “It’s a bit different.”

I nodded, even though I wouldn’t have detected the difference, but I appreciated that he was considerate of my pregnancy. I smiled at the way he took another sip, his perfect lips pursing slightly to assess whether he could get used to the sweet taste or not. He hated the taste of jasmine, and I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh out loud.

“This is crap,” he murmured, grimacing again. He turned back to me and said nothing more.

I took another sip and eyed the fire. “I like it.”

“That’s because you’re sweet. A good girl.” He grinned at me.

I cocked an eyebrow. “And you aren’t good?”

He inclined his head. “Not so much. I’m probably the bad boy your mom would advise you to stay away from.”

How true.

In fact, that had been exactly my first thought when I first met Jett Mayfield.

“I’m not really nice,” I whispered. “I can be very blunt.”

“That’s fine,” Jett said. “I have a thick skin, which is perfect for handling fire.”

His green eyes regarded me with a hunger that made my cheeks flush with heat. He was too tall, too strong, too masculine. Next to him, I felt tiny, helpless, a state I had never felt before I met him. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his tie was gone. My brain told me to keep things casual, but my fingers itched to touch his hard body, and my tongue wanted to lick his skin.

Not yet. Too soon. Talk. Get to know him, as if he’s really a stranger.

That had been the plan all along. If I gave in to his advances first, I’d never get him to open up and let me be in control.

“Is that some kind of famous painting?” I pointed to the framed artwork hanging on the west wall, a painting of blue and golden swirls.

“I doubt it, but if it is, I’m sure it’s just a replica. I much prefer originals. They’re always worth having,” he said, his gaze lingering on me for too long. “I like the real thing.”

Holy pearls.

He was flirting with me, making it hard to engage in small talk. How the heck was I supposed to keep my cool when all I wanted was to f**k him on the spot? Biting my lip, I forced myself to calm down. I didn’t need alcohol to feel the effects he had on me; his presence was enough. Combined with his aftershave, the way he was regarding me, and the sound of the crackling fire, it was a deadly and sinfully sexy combination. In every way, he was the epitome of beauty and perfection, mysterious yet alluring—and most of all, he was mine.

Chapter 5

“What now?” I asked as the silence became uncomfortable, spiked with anticipation.

“You’ll see.”

He was so relaxed compared to me, and I knew he was doing that on purpose. Except for a sparkle in his eyes, I detected no nervousness whatsoever, but then Jett had mastered the skill of keeping up a straight face when he wanted to keep his thoughts hidden. As well as I knew him, even I had to look hard to see through his pretense.

Sitting on the couch in front of me, he put his drinks down and pulled my legs onto on his lap. My breath hitched in my throat as his hands began to trail down my thighs. There was something sexy and highly intimate about the way his hand moved slowly down my knee to my ankles. They lingered there, the warmth of his skin instantly arousing me. Despite Jett being one of the most successful businessmen, he had strong, capable hands. They were callused, which I knew were from driving fast cars.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my breath heavy.

“I promised you a massage. Did you think I’d forget?” He arched one of his sexy eyebrows and unfastened the sparkling gemstone buckles of my black high-heels. With a soft thud, they landed on the hardwood floor.

A second later, his hands were on me again, his thumb gliding softly across my skin. My body began to tingle all over. Deep inside, something began to pulsate. My breath caught in my throat again when his thumb glided sideways across my foot, and the gentle tingle was replaced by long, gliding strokes. My heart spluttered.

Boy, did I get it wrong. He isn’t trying to help me relax, the little devil!

He was trying to turn me into butter with something supposedly innocent.

A massage? Really?

His smug smile made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing. That worried me, because knowledge is power, and no man should ever have that kind of power over a woman—especially not over me.

“Where did you learn to touch like that?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he turned his attention to my other foot. He wasn’t just sinfully sexy; he had also mastered the art of entrancing a woman with nothing but the touch of his fingers. If he continued his torture, my brain would stop working. His massage wasn’t just relaxing. Rather, it was as if the gates of heaven had opened, and my body became a liquid mess, pouring out of me, pooling around my feet.

“With you, it comes naturally,” he finally said.

“I’m honored.” I smiled, even though I didn’t believe a word he said.

“Nothing’s free though,” he said, bemused. His green gaze met mine, and my heart jumped in my throat at the obvious insinuation. “And I know the perfect way for you to repay the favor.”

For a moment, I was left speechless. My mind went blank, which was never a good sign. I wanted to be in control of my words, not the slave of green eyes and the deep rumble of a Southern accent, and especially not a slave of his magic hands.

Do I really want to play hard-to-get just so I don’t have to admit my ridiculous weakness for him?

“Sure,” I mumbled to myself.

When his grin widened, I realized I must’ve spoken out loud. With a devilish glint in his eyes, he whispered, “You surprise me. I had you pegged as the bargaining type.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“No, you didn’t.” His lips twitched.

“I’m serious,” I said grimly, realizing he was making fun of me. “I was talking to myself.”

“Sure.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “No need to be defensive about it.” His thumb brushed my inner thigh. “We all make that mistake.”

Heat scorched my cheeks and probably turned them bright red.