“I’ve been horny plenty, and I’ve never fucked one of my instructors,” I argue.
“I’m glad I don’t have to knock anyone’s teeth out.” He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him.
A hot thrill shoots down my spine at his dark tone. I loop my arms around his neck, loving that I’m pressed up against his warm, bare skin. “Why is it okay for you to fuck your instructor, but the idea of me fucking one of mine warrants physical violence?”
He gazes down at me, eyes glittering. “I didn’t say it was okay that I fucked my instructor, just that it happened. And I couldn’t go back to the studio after that.” His nostrils flare. “Let’s talk about anything other than fucking.”
I press myself against him. “You’re the one who brought up fucking, not me.”
“Stop using the wordfucking.”
“But I like the wordfucking.”
“Kitten.” There’s warning in his tone and his molten gaze.
I’m sure my smile is absolutely devilish. I make afuhsound.
He narrows his eyes. “What do you think happens to bad little kittens?”
“Naughty things, I hope.”
He exhales roughly, jaw flexing along with the fingers gripping my side.
I’m pushing all his buttons. I want him, I want this, but I don’t want him to break for the wrong reasons, so I kiss his chin and step back. “Should we check out that coffee shop?”
“We should.”
I start to move away but his fingers lap my wrist. I turn back to him, and he gently cups my chin in his palm, gazing down at me with heated longing. “Thank you for dancing for me.”
“Thank you for renting me a studio.”
He slants his mouth over mine, tongue brushing mine. It’s sweet and languid and it makes my knees weak, but it’s over too soon. He pulls back, then kisses the side of my neck. “I need to get you out of here now.”
“I know.” My heart is hammering. My vagina is permanently clenched, and I will definitely need some relief when I get home, but it’s so, so worth it to have him look at me like he wants to devour me.
He helps me into my coat, and I watch as he pulls his shirt and hoodie back over his head. We end up driving to another café because the one in the strip mall is full of students, a couple of whom are wearing Terror shirts.
It isn’t until we’re seated at the too-small table, one of his knees between mine because there’s no space for his long legs, and he’s playing with my fingers that he says, “I’m sorry.”
I look up at him. “For what?”
“For winding you up and leaving you hanging.” His eyes are full of apology.
“I like that we can push each other’s buttons, though,” I say softly.
“You excel at pushing mine.”
I roll my bottom lip between my teeth. “I’m wildly attracted to you, and sometimes the yearning is...overwhelming, and I just…forget myself.” I gather my thoughts for a moment. It’s empowering to have someone like Flip regard me this way: with desire, with reverence. “I also like that you want to treat me with caution and respect.”
“You are everything I have ever wanted, Tally.” He kisses the back of my hand. “I didn’t rent the studio so you’d have somewhere to dancefor me, I wanted you to have a space that’syours.”
It’s the first time I’ve been with someone who wants to do thingsforme, not justtome. “It’s the most amazing gift anyone has ever given me.”
The door of the café opens, bringing with it a gust of cold air. I shiver and rummage through my oversized purse. “Crap. I must have left my sweater at the studio.”
“Here.” Flip stands and pulls his hoodie over his head. “Wear this.”
He helps me into it. It’s nearly dress length on me, the shoulder seams almost at my elbows, but Flip’s satisfied smile makes my heart leap. Especially when he frees my hair and leans in to kiss the side of my neck. “This is yours now.”
