Sullivan stops playing and flies to his feet, knocking the stool to the floor.
The sudden stillness in the room heightens the sound of my angry breaths as my chest heaves.
He steps toe to toe with me, blue eyes burning.
“You think I hated it because I didn’t like the way it clung to you? The way your shirt looked like your breasts were going to spill out of it any minute? The way your skirt showed these…” He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes dropping down my body. “These curves near your hips… like fucking handles made to grip on to?”
“What?” I choke.
He rakes his gaze over my body, his tongue sliding out to wet his lower lip.
“So your date?” he whispers darkly. “How was it?”
He continues his perusal of me without apology, drinking me in with heated eyes.
“Over now… thanks to you.”
His lips curl a little on one side. But it isn’t a smile.
“Before it ended? Do you like Vincent? Would you have gone home with him?Fucked him?”
“Fucked him?” I echo in a disbelieving gasp.
I take him in, dressed in his suit pants, his white shirt undone to the top of his chest, showing a hint of dark hair disappearing beneath the fabric. His brows are pulled together in his signature scowl.
“No,” I say, not sure why I’m sharing this with him. It’s none of his goddamn business. “I wouldn’t have. There’s no spark. It was a fun evening with a new friend. But it wascomfortable.”
I regret the shred of information I let slip free instantly. Sullivan homes in on it like a shark after a drop of blood.
“Comfortable? You don’t want comfortable?”
“No.”
His eyes pass over my folded arms, before settling on my cleavage in the plunging neckline.
“Whatdoyou want?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
He finally looks up at me, hitching one brow in question. He isn’t going to let this go until I answer him.
I swallow. “I wantmore… I want my heart to race when I see him… I want my spine to tingle, knowing he’s close… I want a rush when I lock eyes with him and see the way he looks at me… I want… I want something that’s almost frightening because of how intense it is.”
I’m pinned in place by show-stopping bright blue irises.
I don’t move. I don’t breathe.
“Ask me whatIwant, Tate,” he says, his voice a rich husky gravel.
I pause, my pulse galloping in my ears. I should keep quiet. This is… this is too much… He can’t honestly think that he and I…
“What do you want?” I whisper, unable to stop myself, the urge to have him finally share his private thoughts with me too great of an opportunity to pass up.
He reaches up and brushes the back of his fingers over my hair, stopping before he reaches the ends that fan over the swell of my breasts.
“I want you.”
“But… you don’t like me,” I splutter.
