Page 10 of Mr. Wrong
“It’s something, isn’t it?” I say, letting my gaze wander around the park-like space. Thick green grass. Tall trees and flowering shrubs. Red brick planters housing rose bushes and wisteria. A narrow lap pool lined with resort-style loungers. Pool toys floating on its surface. At the back of the property is a pool house. Red brick like the planters. White shutters. Deep porch with a swing.
“Is it yours?” She tries to look everywhere at once, craning her neck this way and that, eyes wide. I want to hear calculation in her voice, so I can believe she’s taking it all and trying to find a way to set her hooks in me. I don’t. All I hear is curiosity. Maybe a little bit of awe.
“Nope.” Pulling her onto the porch of the pool house. “It belongs to my brother.” I look for disappointment but don’t find it.
“Your brother the bar owner?” Her fingers flex around mine while she gives her lips a nervous lick.
I give her another smile and a non-committal shrug. Despite the fact that I brought her here, I’m not in the market to spillfamily secrets. My gaze dips of its own volition, settling on her mouth while I reach for the doorknob. “How do you want to do this, Ellenore?” I say, forgetting everything I said to her. Every warning I just gave her. “Fast or slow?”
Totally unaware of what she’s doing to me, she licks her lips again before pulling the corner of her mouth between her teeth, her dark brown eyes aimed right at me when she finally lets go of her lip and says, “Surprise me.”
Seven
Ellenore
Surprise me?
Seriously?
Surprise me?
I hate surprises.
Honestly hate them.
I’m a planner. I need structure. To know with unwavering certainty exactly what’s going to happen next.
I have never, in my entire life, encouraged someone tosurprise me.
What the hell has he done to me?
Who have I become?
Instead of asking out loud, I keep wondering while he opens the door and pulls me inside. As soon as it’s snapped shut, Lex has me pushed up against it, his mouth inches from mine, his fingers pushing past the place where the hem of my T-shirt meets the waistband of my jeans. The feel of his fingertips grazing my skin sets off an involuntary shudder, the force of it pushing an embarrassing yelp up my throat and past my lips.
“Do I need to kiss you again?” He’s teasing me, trying to get me to relax but it’s not working. Instead it sweeps a wildfire of mortification across my face.
And just like that, I’m back to being me.
Bland, boring, predictable me.
Ellenore Pierce.
Pudding Girl, extraordinaire.
“I’m sorry…” I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. Jesus. He probably thinks I’m some sad, lonely virgin and that I made up my ex-boyfriend to seem less pathetic. Sadly enough, Derek is real and despite the fact that I’ve had sex an adequate amount of times, I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I mean, shit—I don’t even know what to do with my hands. Where do I put them. Am I supposed to touch him. “I told you, I’m not good at—”
I let out another sound when I feel his mouth brush against mine—this one lessholy shitand moreyes, please—the tip of his tongue tracing the seam of my mouth without trying to push its way inside. Letting me decide if I want to let him in. When my mouth finally parts on a sigh, he kisses me, his tongue moving against mine in slow, lazy sweeps until my bones and muscles go soft and my brain starts to buzz before he finally breaks his mouth away from mine.
“Look at me.”
Something about his tone pulls my eyes open. He’s looking at me, his impossibly blue gaze hooked into mine. He moves slowly, one of his hands skimming along my waist. Down the curve of my hip until his fingers link with mine. “I want to show you something,” he says, lifting my hand in his. I think he’s going to pull me off the door and into a dark bedroom, so he won’t have to look at me and all my glaring inadequacies. Instead, he guides my hand into the space between us. Lifting his other hand, he plants his palm on the door, next to my head so he canlean into my touch. “Do you feel this?” He whispers it, his gaze going dark and heavy when his fingers shape mine around the hard length of his cock. “I’m so fucking hard it hurts, Ellenore.” He leans into me again so I can feel every word he says brush against my lips. “You did that…” He sinks his teeth into my lower lip, nipping softly. “You and your ponytail, and your soccer mom sweater and your goddamned tennis shoes.” The hand on the door inches closer to my head. Close enough to wrap its fingers around my ponytail and give it a not so gentle tug, tilting my head back to expose my throat. “This isn’t a pity fuck. This isn’tI’m horny and anyone will do.” His mouth moves, nipping and kissing along my jawline. “I had a fight with my brother and took a ride to clear my head. Ended up at the bar because I didn’t want to go home just yet.” His teeth scrape along the place where my shoulder meets my neck and I moan, my hand instinctively tightening around his shaft when the sound of it causes his cock to jerk in response. “I wasn’t looking for a fuck but then there you were, looking so sexy I couldn’t have resisted you, even if I tried.” His teeth sink into my neck, deep enough to elicit another moan, this one sharper and shaped around his name.
“Lex…” My free hand lifts on its own, its fingers spearing through his hair before tightening into a fist while the hand on his cock sweeps a thumb across its head. He growls against me in response, the hot vibration of it humming over my skin before pushing deeper until it’s seeped into my muscles. Vibrating in my bones.
I’ve never made a man growl before.
I think I like it.
