I also keep thinking about being in his arms and how tight he held me when I was upset. He promised to deal with the splasher guy. That was when I started down this dangerous path of wanting him so much it hurts.
While his head is still tipped back and he’s breathing hard enough to show off his outstanding pecs, I mumble something about leaving. Then I get to my feet and toss the pillow on the foot of his gigantic bed before I retreat from his domain.
In my room, I close the shades, turn off all the lights, and get under the bedcovers. With my eyes closed, I picture his face and the way it felt to have his hand on my breast.
My hand snakes down the front of my yoga pants. I rub between my thighs, the fabric of my panties warm and damp. My fingers find their way into them, parting my soft folds, searching for the spot that will get me to orgasm fastest.
I hear his voice, husky with arousal, when he told me to take my pants off. That voice was like being dragged over gravel and floating through clouds at the same time. It makes no sense that something can be both rough and tender.
There’s a tap on the door that startles me.Speak of the devil.
It opens, and I freeze, lying perfectly still but blushing furiously.
“Hmm. What’s going on in here?” His tone makes it clear that he knows exactly what’s going on.
“What do you want?” I ask, half-embarrassed, half-excited by his presence.
“You know what would feel better than your hand between your legs?” The corner of his mouth curves into a sexy smirk. “Mine.”
I don't turn my head to look at him. I don’t dare.
“Or my mouth,” he adds. “Or my cock.”
I’m starved for breath by the time I let myself breathe.
“No thanks,” I say in a raspy whisper, then I finally risk a glance.
Light from the hall makes him glow in the doorway as he leans against the doorframe. He’s golden and gorgeous, like a lion on the African plains, effortlessly powerful with an animal grace. How does he make love? Is it the same as when he’s sucked? A tantalizingly slow burn that gives way to hard thrusts?
My breath catches again. My body wants to know how his would feel sliding against it. If he ignored what I said and climbed into bed with me, I wouldn’t be able to stop him. Not on any level.
“You know what happens when you tease a man by claiming you don’t want him when you actually do?”
I’m silent, hanging on his next words.
“He takes it as a challenge. It’s been a while since anyone pretended to run from me. Do you want me to chase you?”
I lie because I know I should. “No.”
“Sure, you don’t.”
Several moments of charged silence pass, making me want to squirm, making me want to beg him to crawl into bed with me. I don’t. Because I don’t trust him not to hurt me.
Finally, he speaks. “The thing I came to say was I’ll take you back and forth to school from now on.”
That earns him another look. “Really? Until when?”
“Until I find the rose guy and deal with him.”
Yes, please.The police can’t seem to do anything. Granthorpe is Gotham City. It needs its Batman.
“Deal with him how?”
I want to hear that he’ll smash him to pieces for scaring me and every other woman on campus. I want Shane to promise he’ll pay Casanova back for every girl he ever hurt. Then I wonder what’s wrong with me. Why do I want violence on top of violence? What I should wish is for the police force, not my stepbrother, to find Casanova.
He doesn’t answer my question, which is probably a good thing.
Instead, the corners of his mouth tug into a small smile, and he says, “Night, Avery.”
