This has to be lust and the need to ease my stung ego. She didn’t even give me the time of day, then when she did, she laughed in my face.
Now I want her choking on my cock after she suffocates me with her thighs.
Yup, lust.
But I take a step toward her. I lick my bottom lip as a smirk pulls at the side of my mouth. “Did you really flick my nose?”
Ambrosia’s head whips up, her wide eyes meeting mine straight on. I’ll give it to her; she’s got a pair of balls on her. Her shoulders push back, the shirt straining against her ample breasts, as she schools her features. Her whiskey-colored eyes flare with defiance before she crosses her arms below her great set of tits. The movement only brings my gaze to where her cleavage is begging to be let out of that shirt of hers. I want to nuzzle my face between them. Pull her nipples between my teeth and suck her until she’s screaming my name.
“Eyes up here, Sinclair.”
My grin grows, but I don’t apologize. “Fantastic view.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re disgusting.”
“I am only admiring a gorgeous woman. Do you not check me out?”
Her pause tells me she does, but she says, “Absolutely not.”
Fuck, she’s cute. “Sure,” I draw out sarcastically. “And why did you flick my nose?”
She doesn’t even hesitate. “Because you were being arrogant.”
I feel my brows rise. “By disagreeing with your theory?”
“With absolutely no skin in the game,” she throws at me. I really like that she knows sports. Huge turn-on for me. Usually, girls go for me because I’m an athlete, I’m big, and I have money. Apparently nothing about me appeals to Ms. Mercer here, though.
Or so she claims.
She throws up her hands, her nose wrinkling in the cutest little way. If she weren’t so terrifying, I’d want to cuddle her like a cat, but this one has claws that could shred me to pieces. “You don’t know the first thing about being in love, so how can you decide if it’d help your game or not?”
“Like I said, I am in control of my game.”
She gives me a bored look. “So you say.”
We both know what she’s saying, but I don’t give in. “I do because no female has been able to make me want more than anything physical.”
Until n— Oh, hell no.
I’m about to slap sense into myself just as she snorts. “How could they, when you only give them a chance to suck your cock before you’re out the door?” She laughs. “Or God forbid they don’t suck your cock right, because then you’re kicking them out.”
I eye her. “I have a feeling you know more about me than you’re letting on.”
She gives me a dry look. “All my roommates sucked you off. But Grace P., she used too much teeth, and you weren’t feeling that.”
When she snaps her white teeth at me like a vampire, I take a step back. I bring my brows in, not remembering this or who the hell Grace P. is. “When was this?”
She rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure, it does, because I don’t remember that.”
She gives me a long look, one I feel all over before she mutters, “Freshman year, around March.”
I press my lips together, trying to hold back my grimace. Quietly, I admit, “I wasn’t the best version of myself that year. I was confused and drinking a lot.”
“Yeah, you sure were drunk,” she says, and something about the way she says that has a memory coming to me.
I don’t remember much, but I remember the beanbag, the way her hair curled along her shoulders, and her whiskey eyes.
