“What am I going to do with you?” she murmured.
“Any damn thing you want,” he replied.
12
THE VIEW
Britain
Brit stared into Rebel’s eyes, willing herself to hate him. But she could not.
While she might not like his reckless choices on the job, there was no denying he was a total god.
Hours earlier, the GM had knocked, told Rebel he was closing up. She suggested they take off. His expression—part surprise, part disappointment—had made her laugh out loud.
Their sex Olympics had continued. They couldn’t get enough of each other. It was intense and energizing.
And out of control.
She’d never found anyone who could match her stamina, never had a partner she enjoyed this much.
That truth would only make the reality of her situation worse, if she were willing to acknowledge she was having the absolute best time. But she wasn’t admitting anything, certainly not to him.
His gaze remained locked on hers, as if going their separate ways wasn’t an option.
This is crazy.
It’s just lust.
Get up. Get dressed. Get out.
As she pulled away from him, he murmured. “Don’t go.”
She collected her clothes, scattered from where they’d fallen, and went into the bathroom. For someone who’d gotten no sleep, she looked alive, excited, and more vibrant than she had in… maybe ever.
Her bed head was evidence of their wild fun. She pulled out the hair tie, letting her hair cascade down her back before she pulled on her hot pants. While she zipped the bustier, he appeared in the doorway.
His naked form stole her attention. Heat spread from her chest to her cheeks.
“I love the effect I have on you.” He dipped down, dropped a worshipful kiss on her shoulder. “I like you, Britain Skye. You gotta know that.”
I like you too.
Biting back a smile, she shrugged.
That elicited a laugh from him. “Yeah, you like me too.” He stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and eyed them in the mirror. “That relaxed, just-sexed expression is you liking me back.”
“I’ll admit you know how to take good care of me, but when it comes to work, you aren’t a team player.”
“I’m a rebel,” he said matter-of-factly. “It is what it is.”
“Well, I can’t be—” she pursed her lips.
Silence.
“Finish that sentence,” he urged.
She stared into his eyes, refusing to say another word.
