Page 70 of Lucky Shot

“But the idea makes you wet, doesn’t it? Knowing I want you does even more so.”

I love the stutter of her breath and the shift of her feet. No doubt she’s feeling that wetness right about now. But she lifts her chin and holds her ground. “Would you rather me say I’m not fucking you?”

I groan. How can I not when she stands there looking like that and saying words such as those? “Bloody hell, that made me hard. I can offer proof if you’d like.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Whitney

I can see the proof all right. His slacks tent at the seam and offer quite the sight. He’s in my hotel room, shirtless, sexy, and playing a game I’m not exactly sure who I want to win.

Fuck it. He wants to make statements like that, then I’m going to call him on the carpet. “Sure. Show me.”

My words startle him, and I love that I’ve thrown him off his game. We stare at each other, a game of chicken.

“You want to see my cock?”

My mouth goes dry as I realize I’m at the point of no turning back—because everything he said is right. I came back to my room, already wishing I’d stayed at the party. I took the dress off but left the lingerie on. I spritzed and sprayed and stewed over if I was mad at him but then stared at the pictures of us longer and realized a part of me loved it and loved being a part of something with someone . . . even if it’s fake.

And yet this isn’t fake. This is very real with Hardy standing before me with his cut physique and sizable cock. Once I cross this line, there is no turning back. Yes, I made a promise to myself, but the question is what constitutes breaking it? And how much of me wants to cave versus hold my ground?

He runs a hand over it, and the chain reaction of ripples up his abdomen is obscenely sexy and quickens my pulse.

“Yes.” I lay down the gauntlet. “It’s only fair that I see its possibilities if I’m to be considering it.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been called that,” I say and purposely shift so that my robe parts and offers hints of the lace bra and panty set beneath.

He sees it, if the flare of his nostrils and the licking of his lips is any indication. He keeps his eyes on mine though as he undoes his belt and drops his slacks to the floor before making a show of slowly taking his cock out. It’s a gorgeous masterpiece of rigidity and veins with a drip of pre-cum glistening on its tip.

I take the whole of him in—the tanned skin, the sculpted abs, the hint of a happy trail, the firm thighs—and when I meet his eyes, he gives me the slightest smirk that says he knows I like what I see.

With methodical slowness, he wraps his fingers around his cock and slides his hand down his shaft. The hiss he emits and the tensing of his own muscles are a turn-on like I’ve never experienced before.

“Your turn,” he groans as he lets his head fall back and takes another long, slow stroke of his cock.

“My turn?” I ask, although I have every intention of dropping this robe.

“Mmm.”

“I said I won’t sleep with you.”

“You’re really going to stick to your guns?”

“Can’t fault a woman for being principled and disciplined.” Jesus. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sexier sight before.

“Well, then.” The tendons in his neck grow taut and his voice grows gruff. “No one said we can’t get there on our own . . . while being together. How’s that for principled?” He takes a step toward me. His biceps bulge with every pump. “Part that robe, babe, and show me everything I want.”

How can words evoke such a visceral reaction? How can one man make me want to do something I’d normally never do?

But there’s an empowerment here somehow. I sense that.

So I take a step forward and own both of them.

I shrug out of my robe so that it falls to the floor with a soft thump. The hitch of his breath is the only sound in the room besides my own uneven breathing, and it’s everything I need to boost my confidence.

I know I look good. I spend hours outside all day, every day being physical, but that doesn’t mean having to disrobe in front of someone who is as physically perfect as Hardy doesn’t take courage.