He smiles back. “Also, there are no agreements here. Nothing to get tangled up in. Taking liberties like that would be a bit presumptuous, wouldn’t it? Besides, I thought that’s what you liked about those book men. They’re respectful, right?”
“Book boyfriends,” I correct, smiling despite myself. “And what I like about them has nothing to do with being gentlemen or respectful. Even still, sometimes being a gentleman is giving a woman something she’s never had before,” I add, letting the suggestion sit where he can’t ignore it.
Because something tells me there’s a lot to discover with this man.
“You really don’t understand what you’re asking for, Max,” he says. “Most women who can handle certain kinds of experiences don’t have to announce it. It’s an aura.”
“And I don’t have that aura?”
He shakes his head, frowning. “I don’t know. And that’s what fucks with me. I have no business playing with whatever this is between us if I’m not sure.”
I look into his eyes, searching for what he’s not saying. For the parts he’s holding back. The meaning tucked between the words.
My broody bear looks tortured now. Not defiant. Off center. And while it feels like self-preservation, like he’s trying to keep himself intact, there’s something else there too.
It feels like he’s trying to protect me.
From the fallout. Even though I don’t yet understand what that fallout is—or what it could cost us both.
“So, self-preservation is why you called the tow truck so early?”
“Yes.”
“And why you need me gone?”
His throat works before he answers. “Yes. Exactly.”
I glance down. Then back up into his beautiful black eyes. “And that’s also why your dick is rock hard right now?”
He doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t need to.
Then, like he can’t hold it in anymore, he grabs the edge of his shirt I’m wearing and rips it open. Buttons fly. Muscles tense. Chest rising. “Fucking, Max,” he growls.
And immediately, I’m grateful I decided to not wear panties underneath.
He grabs the back of my neck, rough and possessive, his other hand sliding straight to my center, finding me wet. Ready because my body has been waiting for this exact moment since I saw him.
My Bear.
Eli swipes through my wetness like he’s tasting dessert, then brings his fingers to his lips. A slow suck. A filthy groan.
Before I can process what’s happening, he lifts me, plants me on the kitchen island like I weigh nothing and prepares to bring another one of my fantasies to life. His shirt that I’m wearing hangs open. I’m exposed. The house is open, windows wide, nothing to shield us from the world.
But I don’t care.
Not when he’s the one standing between my thighs.
He leans in, eyes dark. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Max.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
Please don’t hiccup.
“I’m going to lay you down on this island and lick you dry.”
I nod. “Okay.”
