Page 60 of Say My Name (Stark International Trilogy 1)

I swallow, not entirely certain I could form words right then, even if I had to.

“Surrender, princess, and you’ll get the orgasm I denied you earlier. Don’t stop, and I’ll be the only one who gets off for a very, very long time.”

I believe him. And while I wish I had the strength to follow through and make him come—to sacrifice my own pleasure for the sake of a victory—I just can’t do it.

I pull my hand away.

“Good choice,” he says, and there is no denying both the heat and the victory in his voice. “I promise, sweetheart, that you won’t regret it.”

He nods at the table and I realize that we’ve finished the meal. “Dessert?”

I shake my head.

“No? I want dessert. I just don’t want it here.” He brushes his finger over my lower lip. “A moment,” he says, then stands. He goes to the door, slides it open, then signals for the check.

As he’s returning to the table, the theme from Star Wars starts to blare from my purse.

I wince as Jackson laughs.

“Yoda calling?”

I roll my eyes as I rummage for my phone. “My brother.”

I glance down at the screen and feel the blood drain from my face as I read the text message.

Hey, Silly!

Guess who’s finally moving back to the good old USA?

Arriving in three weeks—just in time for Halloween.

Pick me up at LAX? Then let’s shoot down to Irvine.

Mom’s all psyched about putting on a huge spread for us.

And Dad says he doesn’t see enough of you, either.

Love you, big sis.

Miss you.

See you soon.

“Something wrong?”

I realize that I’ve been staring at the phone for a hell of a lot longer than it takes to read one text message.

“I—no. Not a thing. Just give me a sec.” I manage a smile as I type out a response, but am frustrated to see that my hands are shaking.

So psyched you’re coming home! At a work thing, so more soon.

And despite the fact that I hurt him so deeply, the man at my side still cares about me. At least a little.

It’s enough to sweep away my anger and fear. Three weeks is a lifetime away, and tonight is not the time to open the door to more memories. And, frankly, tonight I have enough on my mind with Jackson. I don’t need my family in my head, too.

I frown as we pass the valet stand. “Aren’t you getting your car?”

“Not just yet,” Jackson says as a liveried doorman greets us. With Jackson’s hand pressing gently against the small of my back, we enter the stunning lobby. It’s awash in a golden light that makes the polished marble floor glow in a way that draws out the iconic circular design that looks a bit like a target symbol. At the center of the circle stands a giant table with an enormous—and gorgeous—flower arrangement blooming bright beneath one of the most ornate chandeliers I’ve ever seen.

“I love this hotel,” I say. “It’s like stepping back in time with its mix of classical and art deco elegance.”