No way. My cock might be into pain, but I am not. I get enough of it on the field to fulfill whatever dark desires might lurk in my psyche.
I toss my controller onto the coffee table and stand, meeting the she-devil’s haughty glare. “On that note, why don’t I walk you out?”
Because despite her low opinion of football players, I can be a gentleman.
She rolls her eyes. “I think I can find the way.”
“Probably, but I’d like to make sure we don’t have any more surprise guests tonight.”
One is more than enough.
I gesture toward the hall and follow when she marches past, her perfect ass swaying with each step.
“Quit looking at my ass.”
“Who says I’m looking at your ass?”
She tosses her hair and it cascades over her shoulder like a crashing wave. “I’m a woman. We always know when men are objectifying our bodies.”
Ouch. “Maybe I was just admiring your PJs.”
“Right.” She turns on her heel as she reaches the front door. “I’m sure you’re a huge Sailor Moon fan.”
Fuck no. But my cousin is into anime, so I know just enough to be dangerous. And, with any luck, enough to find some common ground so we can smooth things over between us.
Preferably before she breaks in and smothers me in my sleep.
“I can name all the characters.”
She snorts. “Which only proves you’re active on Pornhub.”
I cross my arms because I’m pretty sure strangling a neighbor—even one who identifies as the she-devil—is frowned upon. “Sweetheart, I don’t need Pornhub to get off.”
“Oh, I know.” She sneers, looking me over from head to toe. “I’m sure you’ve got a trail of broken-hearted fangirls trailing in your wake.”
Bullshit. I’m a straight shooter when it comes to sex. My hookups are always the no-strings, one and done variety by mutual agreement. Between football and school, I don’t have time for anything else. But if she’s so determined to think the worst of me, so be it.
“Jealous?” I brace a hand on the door and lean down until our faces are just inches apart. Her breath hitches and her pupils blow wide, nearly swallowing the umber irises, but she stands her ground. “If you’ve got an itch that needs scratching, just say the word.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She squares her shoulders and pulls herself up to her full height, narrowing the gap between our mouths. We’re so close I can’t help but notice the perfect Cupid’s bow of her upper lip or the lingering smell of mint on her breath and fuck me, I want to taste her. The urge to crush my lips to hers strikes hard and fast, need coiling deep in my gut. “I wouldn’t have sex with you if you were the last man on Earth.”
Her words are breathy, but they land like a physical blow, each one dripping with venom.
“Good.” I push off the wall and take a step back. “The feeling’s mutual.”
So much for being a gentleman.
She recoils, and before she can deliver another strike, I reach behind her and yank the door open, forcing her to sidestep to avoid being hit in the ass by it.
“Dios mío. You really are an asshole.”
“Finally, something we agree on.” I smirk down at her, embracing the role she’s assigned me. “And the next time you want to show off your skimpy little pajamas, use the bell like a normal person.”
“Keep your music down and there won’t be a next time,” she seethes, stepping outside and yanking the door shut behind her.
The slam echoes through the silent hall and I rake my fingers through my hair.
Not my finest moment, but damn. That girl knows how to get under my skin. I may not like her—hell, I don’t even know her name—but the sexual tension crackling between us is undeniable.
