He holds out a plate with a slice of pizza on it and inclines his head toward my living room. Picking up my cider, I lead the way, sinking down on my couch. He sits in the opposite corner, angling his body to face me. “Whatever they told you is a lie.”
“They said you’re stupidly handsome but also warned me away from you.”
When Sawyer chokes around his bite of pizza, I almost feel bad. Guess I could’ve waited for him to finish chewing.
“Okay, maybe not a lie after all,” he replies, setting down his pizza and taking a drink from his cider. “I am stupidly handsome and you probably should stay away from me.”
“And yet, here you are.” Our gazes lock on each other as I take a sip from my own drink.
“Here I am.”
“What if I don’t want to stay away from you, I just want you to make me feel good.” I’m basically confirming I want this man to fuck me six ways to Sunday. The temperature in the room feels like it’s rapidly rising. So much for easing the tension. I force myself to break the connection and pick up my pizza. “Okay, questions. What’s your favourite colour?”
“Brown.”
I quirk my lips at that. “Brown? Really? Like, are we talking poop brown, or chocolate brown, or autumnal brown?”
He lifts one hand and strokes down the side of my face. “Deep brown. Molten chocolate, with flecks of gold that catch the light and make it sparkle.”
Holy fuck. This man. “Bet you say that to all the brown-eyed girls you hook up with,” I say, trying to keep some thread of sanity intact.
A flash of a frown crosses his face, but it’s gone before I can fully register it. Then he’s sitting back in his corner, acting completely unaffected. “What’s yours?”
“Teal. But a light shade, like what you think of with tropical beaches and clear waters.”
He nods and takes another bite of pizza. Is he seriously not struggling to hold back right now? Because I am having a hell of a time trying to focus on food with him just sitting there looking perfectly comfortable on my couch.
I move slightly, lifting one leg up to rest my knee against the back of the couch. There’s no missing the way his eyes dip between my legs. Thank God I’m wearing dark leggings or he’d probably see the evidence of my arousal right there. “What’s your favourite movie?”
It’s his turn to move, and he almost mirrors my position, except his one leg is bent flat on the cushion of the couch, his foot resting on his other muscular quad. “Top Gun.”
“Do you ‘feel the need…the need for speed’?” I say, ending on a giggle.
Sawyer just winks. “Everywhere but the bedroom, angel. Mach 3 or dead.” He sets his plate and his drink down on the coffee table before taking mine from my hands and doing the same. “Are you done?”
I eye the half-finished slice of pizza, then cock my head at him. “Does it matter how I answer?”
His smirk is the only reply, and then he launches himself across the couch toward me. I let out a stupidly girlish squeal as he pushes me onto my back, grabs my hips, and yanks me down so I’m lying flat on the couch.
“I’m allergic to strawberries, terrified of needles, and like to spend as much time naked as I can. My family comes first, then my job. I love dogs more than cats, and don’t tell anyone, but I wouldn’t care about hockey if it wasn’t for my brother playing it. I’d rather watch baseball. Feel like you know me well enough?”
All I can do is nod. His lips quirk up, but the fire in his eyes doesn’t diminish in the slightest.
“Good. Because I’m ready for dessert.”
My leggings and panties are peeled away from me faster than it takes me to process that last sentence, and then Sawyer’s lifting my legs over his shoulders and dropping his head down. But instead of getting right into things the way I would have thought, he pauses and ever so lightly strokes a finger through the moisture that’s already gathered between my legs.
“I’ve missed you.” His whisper is so earnest, so adorable. It’s kind of a surprise, though, because that sentiment feels a little too relationship-y for what we’re doing. Then I prop myself up on my elbows, despite the awkward angle with my legs still being elevated on his shoulders. I look down to see him staring between my legs.
“Are you talking to my pussy?” I say, letting mock outrage colour my voice. He lifts his head with a wolfish grin.
“What can I say? It’s a nice pussy, and I missed it.”
It’s all I can do not to shake with laughter. “Considering where you were not even forty-eight hours ago, that seems a touch dramatic.”
Sawyer says nothing. Keeping his heated gaze locked on mine, he lowers his head and swipes his tongue along my length. “Do you want to call me dramatic, or do you want to lay back and let me worship you with my tongue and my fingers before I fill you with my cock and make you scream my name?”
Chapter sixteen
