“In my defense,” I begin loudly as he slams his door and regards me, “I started pretending to date Trevor approximately five minutes before I knew you were in town. It wasn’t personal.”
“Feels personal.”
I feint left, dart right. “His cousin was giving him a hard time for not being able to keep a girlfriend. Trevor’s my friend;my job is to wingman in whatever way is necessary. I won’t apologize for that part.”
He walks backward, circling, tone suggesting mere, mild curiosity. “What part are you going to apologize for?”
“You finding out.”
“I see.” He moves faster, a quicksilver streak in the semidarkness, and I realize he’s been pulling punches with his speed.
My steps falter, but I pick back up, dancing around the truck. He loops opposite. “Maybe I didn’t think it’d be theworstthing in the world... if I were to make you a little bit jealous.” I lick my lips. He follows the movement, torment racing just below his skin in a sharp electrical zigzag up to his left temple.
“A little bit jealous,” he repeats. “Got what you wanted yet?”
I raise my chin, searching for the thread I can pull that will make him grin, make him scowl, make him tumble to his knees at my mercy. “Yes,” I reply archly. “I’d say that I certainly have, Alexander.”
His head dips. “My turn.”
Then he runs.
I fly for the truck, but I don’t have time to open the door, he’s a blaze on my heels, lighting me up from behind—I vault over the tailgate into the back instead, no plan, just the instinct to stay in motion. Alex lands with a heavy thud behind me, the whole vehicle rocking. I whirl, uncertain where to go now, strong hands landing on my upper arms with a touch that’s impossibly tender. A body braces mine against the roof of the truck, coaxing me slowly backward until my vision is filled with starlight. Trevor might be on to something, because I think I enjoy being caught.
Alex pursues what he wants with thorough, willful dedication. I’m weak for it.
“You’d better be single,” he grits out.
I unleash a terrible, rotten grin up at Alex that’s going to eat at him, bite by bite, for days. Weeks. Years. “Too bad, I’m not. I have fifty men waiting for a piece of me.”
“Fifty-one.”
He bites my neck.
Chapter Twenty-Two
TIGER LILY:
My passion burns like a firebrand.
Not hard—but not so gentle, either—and I’m learning that I like that. I gasp, arching into him, and Alex swallows the gasp, mouth moving against mine. It isn’t a sweet kiss. It’s an explosion of relief, frustration, pressure, reprimand. Desire. My hands track up his chest, greedy, squeezing his shoulders, nails skating over his scalp. He shivers.
I tug the bill of his ball cap. “I hate how hot I’m finding you in this hat. Why is it so sexy?”
“Welcome to my world,” he mutters roughly against my skin, punishing me with bites, then soothing them with his tongue. “Everything about you. You’re a real fucking tease, and I like that, too.” He raises his arms so that I can tug his shirt over his head. “Wish I didn’t.”
I trail a finger from his lower lip down his chin, throat, chest, stomach, which jumps back from my touch, muscles constricting. He watches me fathomlessly for a moment, then returns his mouth to mine again, hot and demanding, tongue sliding me open. We kiss like we want to destroy each other, take over the other person’s body. “Lying on your couch, thinking about thetwo of you in bed,” he’s saying, crumpling the hem of my shirt in his fist, riding it up. “Torturing me on purpose.”
I palm him between his legs and he moans, pressing closer. I squeeze. “Get down here and touch me,” I command through clenched teeth.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to do whatever it was you were thinking about while lying on my couch.”
Alex picks me up and hauls me over his shoulder, so fast that all I can squeak out is an “Oof,” then jumps down from the truck. Carries me into the field and lowers me onto the long, soft grass.
Alex rolls my shirt over my head, unclasps my bra. Pins his hips against mine and slowly thrusts upward. He fills his hands with my breasts, eyes dark with frenzy, the hard length of him insistent against the seam of my shorts. I unzip them and shove them down a few inches, and he makes another deep groaning noise. My hands slip into the back pockets of his jeans to bring him closer, closer, riding him against me to the rhythm I want. “Yes,” I sigh.“Yes.”
His tongue swirls around one of my nipples. I hold his head in place, unbearably turned on by the sight of his tongue gliding over my flesh, beading the pink crest until it’s hard and swollen. His other hand is at work on my other breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers. Then he’s sucking, and I see stars, his hot mouth torturously slow, dragging it with careful teeth into the cooling night. Goosebumps scatter. Then he’s sucking deeply again, timing his thrusts so that he notches his hard length against my clit right when I’m already delirious with pleasure.
