He smirks, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe she would. But the truth is, you don’t care about anything right now, except yourself.”
He steps closer to me, and it’s hard for me to look into his eyes. He’s right; I’m choosing myself and the way he makes me feel over my friendship with Addison and ultimately my relationship with my dad.
“Don’t read into it,” I say quickly. “I’m protecting myself too. It will be easier to walk away.”
He’s closer now, close enough that I can smell his soap and feel the heat radiating off his bare chest.
“Should we end this?” His hand finds my jaw, tilting my face up until our gazes meet.
I study him. “When you touch me, I forget every reason why I can’t stand you.”
His thumb traces my bottom lip, and I grow breathless.
“That wasn’t my question.”
“You said this stays in New York,” I say. “Can’t this discussion happen there?”
He backs me toward the bed. “Answer.”
“You’re weak.”
“When it comes to you?” His jaw tightens. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I don’t have a response because it’s the first time he’s admitted something like this. I should shove him out and lock the door and pretend this conversation never happened, but his hands are already finding the tie of my robe, and my body is already craving him.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I say.
“Obviously.”
“I still don’t like you.”
“The feeling is so fucking mutual.”
He yanks the tie loose, and the robe falls open. His eyes drag down my body, and I watch his expression shift, that coldness giving way to hunger.
I reach for the waistband of his sweatpants. “You say you’re done, and yet here you are.”
He catches my wrist before I can touch him. “Tell me to leave.”
“Absolutely not,” I say. “You were right about one thing, Pattycakes. When it comes to you and this, I am selfish. And I don’t care.”
He’s on me before I can respond, his mouth crashing into mine as he walks me backward until my knees hit the mattress. I fall onto the bed, and he follows me down, his weight pressing me into the sheets. There’s nothing soft about the way he kisses me. Our aggression, need, and pure want are barely contained.
“I hate that I can’t stay away from you,” he growls against my throat.
“I hate it too.”
He bites down on my collarbone, hard enough to make me gasp.
“We eventually have to stop this.”
“I know.” His hand slides between my thighs, and he growls, feeling how soaked I am.
He pushes two fingers inside me, and I arch off the bed. He curls his fingers and hits that spot that makes my vision blur.
He reaches down to shove his sweatpants off, and then he’s pressing against my entrance, not pushing in, just teasing. Then he rocks his hips enough to let me feel him. He’s thick and hard and right where I need him.
“More.”
