I stand there, harder than fucking hell, and palm my cock as her hands continue to roll each of her nipples. Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open.

We continue to watch each other, but when it becomes too much for me, I drop to my knees and give her what she asked. My tongue swirls around her clit before I lick down the wetness and then push it inside her pussy. Her scream is shrill, and I look up her body to see her back bowed off the mattress.

Lifting one hand, I press down on her hips to keep her from bucking me off her delicious fucking pussy. My other hand continues to slowly stroke my aching cock, each time my thumb grazes over the tip I let out a hum against her that has her jerking each time.

Each press and lick against her clit has her crying out even louder until I’m sure she’s just seconds away from one hell of a climax.

Then I deny her my mouth.

“Kane. God, Kane! Don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

Leaning back, I lick my lips before I wipe the wetness from my mouth with the back of my hand. My eyes hold hers, and I wait for her to realize that I won’t give her what she wants—what I crave—until she uses the words.

“I need you inside me,” she moans, her hands still pinching her nipples, eyes begging.

Not good enough.

I shake my head, and she whimpers.

“Please, Kane. I need you.”

I shake my head again, standing from the floor and reaching for the condoms I had stuffed in my jeans earlier.

“Kane, oh God, please.”

“Give me the words.” My command has her shaking her head slowly. “Beg. Me. To. Fuck. You.” With each word I demand, her shaking intensifies. “Beg me to fuck you with the cock I know you want. Say it.”

“Kane … please.” She gulps when I finish rolling on the condom, and I move to press the tip of my cock against her opening. “Please fuck me,” she whispers.

That word.

A word I’ve never heard from her lips before today, but one that has haunted my fantasies from that very second.

My cock is deep inside her before she even finished asking, and her whisper turns into a loud cry as her body stretches around mine.

I lean over her and take my time with my mouth on her tits. Each thrust of my hips matches with a deep pull of my mouth around her nipple. I take her body harder when her pleas for more hit my ears. Our skin slaps together with each movement.

“Fuck,” I moan into her shoulder when the pleasure almost becomes too much. “So tight.”

Her legs tighten around me, and I feel her nails in my back just when her pussy clamps tight on my cock. Lifting up, I look into her eyes as she climbs higher and higher. My own climax is just a few thrusts away, but not until I watch her come.

“I love you,” she whispers then rolls her head back and moans a long, deep sound that melts into a high scream as she comes. I can’t take my eyes off the beauty of it. In the middle of her scream, her hands grab her tits and her hips jolt against my thrusting as her orgasm seems to roll right into another.

“Fuck!” I shout, my head dropping to her shoulder. I fight to keep my weight from falling heavily on top of her as my own body comes so hard it steals the air from my lungs. “I love you, too, baby,” I tell her, my voice hoarse and sore from the forceful shout.

When I finally am able to pull myself out of her body, feeling like it had been hours but knowing it was more like seconds, I look down to see one hell of a sated smile on her sleeping face.

Not wanting to disturb her, I make quick work of cleaning myself up and grab one of the extra blankets we keep onboard. I hate covering her body from my eyes, but I know she’s had an emotionally hard day, and after how hard she just took me, she’s worn the hell out.

I grab my jeans and pull them on before walking back to the living room area, grabbing my phone and forgotten bourbon before settling down on the couch. But the first message I see stops the glass from ever hitting my lips.

My publicist, Trace, had sent fifteen texts. All of them demanding to know why I wasn’t picking up. But the last one is the only one I can focus on. I ignore his words and click the link.

Where’s Mia? Meet Kane Masters’ new play toy.

Fuck!

God-fucking-dammit. I knew it would turn into something like this when the media found out about us. I didn’t lie when I told Willow that I did not intend to hide our relationship, but until recently, I knew she wasn’t ready for the shit show that is sure to follow this news. Not only that but, as a fiercely private person, I hate seeing my personal life out there for all to rip apart with their lies. It’s so hard to have anything for myself that I perversely loved I was able to keep Willow to myself for so long.

And now … now, we’re outed as a couple—no, a goddamn fucking plaything—and all that privacy is going to fly out the window.

Fuck!

Worst of all, Willow has no idea just how bad it is going to get with the media. Not until I tell her everything. Everything I can’t even tell her yet because I gave my fucking word.

Ignoring Trace, I pull up Mia’s text screen.

Kane: We need to talk. I have to tell her, Mia. I know I promised you I wouldn’t say anything, and at the time, I agreed it was best but not anymore. I won’t lose her because of this.

Dropping my head back, I say a silent prayer that everything is going to work out and Willow won’t leave me for keeping Mia’s baby secret from her.

I WOKE UP FROM ONE of the deepest sleeps I had ever experienced when Kane came to gently let me know we would be landing soon and I needed to come and get my seatbelt on.

It took me a little while to shake the tiredness from my system. I’m sure a little of that had to do with Kane keeping me up for the last few nights, but I know emotionally today was just tiring.

“Hey,” I tell Kane and press a light kiss to his lips before taking the seat on the other side of the table.

He looks up from his iPad and gives me a smile.

“Are you okay?” I question, cocking my head to the side and studying his expression.

His eyes flash, and I know, regardless of what he says, something is bothering him.

“I’m fine. I just have some things on my mind.”

“Ohhhhhkay. And you don’t feel like you can talk to me about those things?”

He places his iPad down and leans forward, reaching out and folding his hands over mine. “It’s not that, Willow. I just wanted to be able to talk to you when we weren’t rushed for time. When I can explain things without having to stop.” He sighs. “I didn’t want to worry you.”