Page 61 of You've Got Male

Glass in hand, she strutted to the door, opened it. “Never even crossed my mind.”

He smiled. “Liar.”

She thrust the drink at him. “Here’s your lemonade.”

He didn’t reach for it. He just said, “It’s not for me. It’s for you. You looked a little parched.”

He was flirting with her, and she liked this open, playful side. In fact, stressed-out-single-dad Jonah was nowhere to be seen. In his place was an assured, animated, arousingly sexy man withenough swagger that had her lips daring her to invite him in.

He curled his finger through her belt loop and yanked her across the threshold. The liquid sloshed over the rim of the glass.

“What happened to keeping your distance?” she said haughtily.

“You said I couldn’t come in. That doesn’t mean that you can’t come outside.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against the shell of her ear. “Do you want to come, sunshine?”

“No.”Yes. Desperately.Her X was already thrumming with desire. She squeezed her thighs together, but the pressure only made things worse. Her breath came out in short bursts as his nose nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear.

He slowly pulled back, just enough so that she could see just how dark blue his stormy eyes were, smell the fresh sweat and cut grass on his skin, feel his breath brush her lips. “You sure about that?”

“Yes. I think you should go before we cross a line we can’t uncross.”

The corners of his lips hitched. “Will do. As soon as you let go of me.”

“You’re the one who’s holding—” She looked at her hand, which was wrapped around his bicep holding on for dear life. She told herself to let go, that she needed to let go, because eventually letting go was the plan, but instead she tugged him closer.

“So are you checking yes or no?”

“Are you asking if I like you?” she said to his lips.

“Oh, I already know you like me. I’m asking if you want me to devour you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Evie

Evie was afraid to answer that question. Just like she was afraid of what would happen if she did. Because the flirty energy between them had shifted to something intensely powerful and heady. Something that wasn’t going to go away until it was properly extinguished.

Maybe that was the answer to her hormone-driven problem.

Sex.

Mindless, unadulterated, no-emotions-allowed sex. Or as he’d called it: devouring. She’d had sex, made love, and had her fair share of orgasms—sadly all self-given. But she’d never been a freak-in-the-sheets kind of woman. Between being a young mom, living in her childhood bedroom, and the utter lack of privacy, there hadn’t been the opportunity.

But now? Her parents were gone, Camila was at practice, which just left her and her fake boyfriend—who had made her a very real offer. One she couldn’t believe she was considering.

“Just sex?” she asked.

His eyes sparkled with amusement. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“I like what you called it better,” she said, because it didn’t leave room for feelings or misunderstandings. It was blunt, raw, animalistic in nature.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, his voice as rough as tossed gravel.

“That’s a yes to just this once,” she said.

He cupped her hips and walked her backward until her butt bumped into the table. Taking the glass from her hand and setting it down, he let his gaze rake her body, catching on her breasts, her hips, the hem of her shorts. “Baby, if you come it’s going to be more than once.”

Her legs nearly buckled beneath her and, had she not been wedged between him and the table, she would have toppled over. “That’s a big statement.”

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