My mouth gapes at his duh-dumb-shit tone even though he makes an excellent point. I slide my gaze down his broad chest, trying to figure out how to answer. I’ve never seen him dressed so casually before, but the man can rock a pair of jeans and a cotton tee just as well as he can the dress shirt and slacks. I remind myself that he blew me off today, in front of Jonah and Owen. In my damn restaurant. I meet his glare with a scowl that I don’t mean.
“What are you doing here?” I chastise myself for sounding so breathy.
“Needed to see you.” His words are clipped and guttural.
“You saw me earlier and you had nothing to say.” Anger builds within my chest, but so does the urge to strip him naked and pounce. “You expect me to believe you’ve suddenly found your voice.”
“You’re mad.”
“Ha! I’d have to care to be mad.” I’m such a hypocrite. I’ve been over here crying into my bedding, feeling like a pathetic loser, and now I’m acting as if I couldn’t give a flying fuck.
He advances, taking two long strides toward me as I take double that to step back. “Had my share of crazy women today, babe. Not in the mood for back talk.”
Did he just . . .? Crazy women?
“I don’t give a shit. You show up at my house after completely ignoring me, and you think I’m going to fall back with my legs open?” If that’s what he thought, he’d be right. Nausea coils in my stomach.
“Be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t hoping for that.”
Heat flushes through my body, anger mixing with arousal. “You’re a fucking asshole!”
He kicks the door shut behind him, and it’s only then I realize he’s backed me into my house. My breath hits in bursts. He’s treating me like a booty call, but I like it. I’m sicker than I thought.
“You tried to take my head off with a baseball bat, and I’m the asshole?”
He keeps advancing, herding me like livestock toward my bedroom.
“I want you to leave.” Fuck that was painful to say when my entire body screams the opposite.
Another step, his eyes drop to my chest. “Not what it looks like to me.”
I chance a quick look at my boobs. Shit! I could win a wet T-shirt contest without the water. “It’s cold.” I shrug, but he sees right through my lie, and a wicked grin tugs at his perfect lips.
“Had a fucked-up day.” Another step. “Want it to go away.” And another. “Only way I know how to do that is between your thighs.”
A tremor of arousal races through my body and collects deep in my belly. Even if he turns away after tonight and all I ever did was offer him relief through my body when he needed me, isn’t that worth it? I have something to offer him that might keep him coming back. That’s not love, but it’s like love’s second cousin. Close enough to the real thing.
I’m taking my last few steps backward when my legs hit the side of my bed. He steps in close, and the spicy scent of his aftershave teases my body to life. Blood pounds through my veins, in my heart, and between my legs. I want this.
He dips his chin and places a lingering kiss to my forehead. “My doll.”
My chest swells with warmth. Needed and his.
One finger traces down the side of my face to my jaw and down my neck to my nipple. He swirls it around and chuckles when the flesh grows impossibly tighter. “Cold my ass.”
I can’t help but giggle. There’s a voice deep down that says I’m screwing everything up, that sleeping with him again is ruining any chance I had with a man like Cameron Kyle. Teach others the way you deserve to be treated? I’m teaching him that I’m a slut. Men never date the slut.
And yet . . .
He hooks the hem of my tank and pulls it up. I lift my arms and nearly groan as he removes my top in a slow drag against my body.
“That’s my good girl.” He tosses the shirt to the side and makes quick work of his own tee.
The light from the TV casts shadows that seem to intensify his muscles. I don’t remember him being so big the first time we hooked up, but that may’ve been due to the fact that we attacked each other, not giving any time for visual appreciation.
I flatten my palm against his chest and push up to his shoulder mesmerized by the feeling of his soft, inked skin before raking my nails down his bicep. My fingers fumble with his belt, but he doesn’t intervene. He stands there, hands to his side, allowing me to undress him. His pants open but need a shove to drop from his thighs to pool at his feet. He toes off his shoes and steps out of his pants, standing in nothing but a black pair of boxer briefs.
Dizzy with all that stands before me almost gloriously naked, I sit on the bed. My eyes take the time they need to memorize every inch of his body, knowing that this is most likely the last time I’ll get to see him like this.
“Enough.” His deep, gravelly voice calls my eyes to his. “Open your legs.”
I don’t consider anything but total cooperation, and I walk my feet apart against the carpet floor.
He shakes his head. “Wider.”
I brace my weight with my hands against the bed behind me and push my legs wider.
A low rumble vibrates from his throat. Approval? “Put your feet flat on the bed.”
I scoot back and do just that.
He sucks in a short breath through his teeth. “Fuck yeah. There it is.” Now it’s his eyes that eat me up from top to bottom. He steps in close and slips his hand into the front of his briefs.