Page 132 of Things We Left Behind
“Go ahead. Say something so I can give you the sex-shaming lecture before I kick you in the balls,” she challenged.
It was a legitimate threat. If she moved forward, her knees would be within striking distance.
“I thought you were getting serious about…dating,” I said.
She shrugged and the motion drew my attention back to her cleavage. My cock throbbed painfully against my zipper.
“I was. I am,” she corrected. “I just haven’t met anyone worth dating, let alone anyone I’d let give me a few orgasms. So here I am. Sex is a good stress reliever.”
“So you’re just going to pick up a complete stranger and let him touch you?”
“You do not get to judge, Rollins. I’m willing to bet you’ve had more than your fair share of uncomplicated one-night stands.”
“I’m not judging,” I lied.
She peered over my shoulder at a man ordering a beer, and my grip tightened on her stool. “No,” I said.
“You need to back off or I’m going to end up wasting a night in a hotel room with my vibrator.”
Spots danced before my eyes.
She squirmed almost imperceptibly on the stool. The movement brought her forward, giving my hand a brush of hot satin just as her knee settled against the ridge of my dick.
Fuck.
Those green eyes widened, her ruby lips parted, and there was no mistaking the quickening of her breath. Hot, damp flesh taunted me from the other side of her fuck-me underwear.
I was tired of fighting. Tired of fighting with her. Tired of fighting my baser desires. It was self-destructive to want the only woman who had shattered my life. Who’d broken my trust. Who had landed me behind bars and very nearly ruined my life before it had even begun.
Yet here I was, closer than I’d ever been before and still not close enough.
“What if you didn’t have to pick up a stranger?” I said, shifting my hand just enough to press harder against her sex.
Her nostrils flared delicately, making the stud in her nose sparkle. But she still hadn’t moved away, still hadn’t threatened to rearrange my face. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting you go upstairs now. With me.”
Her long lashes fluttered behind her glasses, and she shook her head. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”
“You’re here. I’m here. It’s been a while for me too.” I wanted to shift my hand, to hook my finger in the band of satin that stood in my way. I wanted to slide it to the side and stroke my knuckles over that soft, tempting flesh.
“We can’t stand to be in the same room together. What makes you think I’d let you inside me?”
Inside her. She was teasing me now. Planting images in my mind of how she’d look the first time I drove into her.
The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered. Her breasts rose and fell as her breath came in short, delicate pants.
“It’s an itch that needs scratching. Not the beginning of a relationship,” I said dryly.
“Your capacity for romance knows no bounds.”
“What’s the one thing we haven’t tried to stop whatever this is between us?” I pressed.
“Murder?”
“Sex,” I countered.
She blinked and the color rose in her cheeks. “You’re serious.”
