“Don’t you have a filter?”
“Not really my thing.” I growl, making him chuckle. “Cute.”
“Was it cute when I shot you?”
“A little arousing.”
“You’re a freak.”
He leans down and places his lips against my ear. My thighs clench. “Perhaps that’s what you need.”
“What I need is for you to get out of my room.”
He trails his nose down my throat. Goosebumps erupt across my chest and down my arms. “Are you sure? I can help you get out of your head.”
“One hundred percent.”
His gaze meets mine as he lifts his head away. “You promised. No lies.”
“This reaction is just instinct. I would be having it no matter who the attractive guy was. Don’t think you’re a special cupcake. You aren’t.”
“Really?” he says with a tilt of his head. “You want to put that theory to the test, Cleo?”
Bad idea, reverse, reverse. “Anytime.” Okay, so my idiot brain is in charge right now.
“Give me one kiss,” he says.
“No.”
“Chicken.”
“I’m not twelve. You can’t goad me into a reaction by calling my personality into question.”
“How can you expect anything to change if you don’t do something differently?”
Huh, that makes sense. My eyes lower to his mouth. Am I really contemplating a kiss?The guy just watched you try and fail to get yourself off—it’s not as if this is breaking some invisiblehousemate boundary.That happened sometime between fantasizing about him in the pool and the book conversation.
“Let me up.”
He releases a sigh, clearly disappointed as he lets go of my hands and sits back on the bed. Before I can talk myself out of it, I rise to my knees and swing my leg over his, so I’m straddling him. My hands wind into his silky hair as his mouth parts in surprise.
A smile curves my lips as his arms wrap around my back, and he holds me close to his body. He’s half naked, dressed only in a pair of sleep pants. The heat rolling off his chest caresses my front, seeping beneath my skin. I can feel his heart thudding powerfully.
“One kiss,” I mutter.
“One kiss,” he agrees.
I close the distance and graze my lips against his, expecting to feel panic and disgust at the physical touch. What I get is so much worse. Fire blazes a path down my spine and tingles between my legs. My thighs clench in response as his hands flex on my back and hold me a little closer. That’s not normal. Kissing has never felt like this. I press my mouth against his, keen to erase the promise of heat in his touch. This is about proving I’m not a slave to the desire in my veins, that Fox Alderidge is not the guy for me. He’s the opposite of what I need.
His hand slides into my hair, tugging on it, and my mouth parts at the gentle sting. His tongue swipes across my lips and washes away every single notion that I am not going to be affected by his kiss, that my entire world isn’t tilting on its axis to accommodate the storm he promises—one that will sweep away my self doubt, fear, and the notion I am broken. Fox Alderidge kisses me like I’m the most desirable woman in the world, and that is devastating.
He groans as I open to him and deepen the kiss. My body arches, and tears sting my eyes. The war of emotions makes me dizzy. He leans up, and his hard erection presses between my legs. Ice splashes down my spine, chasing away the fire and leaving me with the fear. I break away and shift, falling backward off the bed and out of his arms. I squeeze my eyes closed and brace for the pain, but his strong hands flex and catch me.
He twists and dumps me onto the bed beside him before falling to his knees in front of me. My hands cover my face and a sob tears free from my throat.
He tucks some hair behind my ear. “Hey, what happened?” he asks. His soft tone undoes me.
I shake my head and keep my face covered, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. I was wrong. Iambroken. So fucking smashed into pieces I will never again be whole.
