“Did what?”
“Don’t play stupid. The gym this morning. The pool. Dinner. You’ve been teasing me all day.”
He sets the laptop aside. Takes off his glasses. “Have I?”
“You know you have.”
“And you didn’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
I push off the door and cross to his bed. “I’m saying it worked. Whatever game you were playing. It worked.”
“It wasn’t a game.”
“Then what was it?”
“Showing you what’s already there. Making you admit you want this.”
“Want what?”
“Me. Us. This thing between us that isn’t anger anymore.”
He’s right. It’s not anger. It hasn’t been angry for weeks.
It’s something much more dangerous.
I climb onto the bed. Straddle him over the sheets. His hands come to my hips immediately.
“Is this what you wanted?” I ask.
“Since this morning, when you walked into that gym and couldn’t stop staring.”
“You’re an arrogant ass.”
“You’re here anyway.”
I kiss him to shut him up.
His mouth opens under mine immediately. Warm. Familiar. Tongue meeting mine in a lazy sweep that makes my stomach tighten. I sink deeper into the kiss, hands framing his face, thumbs brushing the stubble along his jaw. He tastes like mint and the faint trace of wine from dinner. I feel his hands settle onmy hips over the thin fabric of my sleep shorts—light, guiding, not pulling.
I rock down against him and immediately feel him harden beneath me through the sheets. A low sound rumbles in his chest. I do it again. Longer this time.
His hands slide up under my tank top. Palms warm against my sides. Thumbs trace the underside of my breasts. I arch into the touch. Break the kiss just long enough to pull the tank over my head. It drops somewhere behind me. His eyes drop to my chest, dark and focused.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. Voice rough. “Every time.”
I reach for the hem of his shirt. Tug it up. He lifts his arms to help. The fabric slides off. I run my palms over his chest. I lean down, kiss the center of his chest. Then lower. Tongue flicking over one flat nipple. He inhales sharply, fingers threading into my hair.
We take our time. My shorts come off next. His hands glide down my thighs as he peels them away, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin behind my knees. I push the sheets aside. Hook my fingers in the waistband of his boxers. Slide them down his hips. He kicks them off.
Then we’re bare. Skin on skin. Heat everywhere.
I straddle him again. This time, nothing between us. I reach down. Wrap my fingers around him and feel him thicken in my hand. His hips lift slightly. Eyes locked on mine.
I line him up. Sink down inch by inch.
