Page 61 of Bad Attitude
“Uh… are you thirsty?”
Did he see me swallow? Shit… was I staring at his crotch? Did he see me staring at his crotch?
“No, I’m not.” Yes, but not for water. Very thirsty. “Thank you.”
Okay, not awkward, not awkward.
“Nice place?” I try.
This was a mistake. What am I even doing here? He’s just going to think I’m…
Inexperienced. Naïve. Crap in bed.
He closes the distance between us, so near I have to look up to see his face. His chest is right before me, broad and tight, begging to be touched. This man’s body should be illegal. No one has the right to look this good.
I think he’s reaching for me, but it’s my lid he takes, my gloves carefully inside. I let him have it, and he lays it on the coffee table beside his, carefully away from the edge. Then he strips his jacket off, the muscles of his back bunching and relaxing with the move.
I catch myself licking my lips, and stop.
He turns to face me, no hint of his usual playful smile, pale blue eyes darker than usual. “Genesis, if you don’t say something soon, I’m going to carry youinto my bedroom and do what I want to you until you can’t walk.”
Now I can’t say anything even if I wanted to. I can barely think, let alone speak.
“Okay,” I manage. Shit… should I’ve kept quiet?
He’s on me before I can question it further, hands cupping the sides of my neck, thumbs firmly beneath my jaw, tilting my face to him. His mouth finds mine, his kiss hungry and messy, tongue pushing in, teeth colliding. Like he wants to devour me, like he has no control.
I open to him, fingers scrunching at his T-shirt, wanting skin, not cotton. The firm muscles of his pecs are beneath my palms—but that’s not what I want either. Without a thought, one hand slides down between us, pressing against him through his leather pants. He’s hard already, warm and heavy beneath my fingers. That’s the most erotic thing.
I moan into his mouth, nipples tightening even more, need flooding through me, pooling low but with all of my body awake to him.
And damn him if his kisses haven’t slowed, that initial hunger fading to something more deliberate. He’s teasing my tongue with his, lips soft against mine, fingers caressing the sides of my neck and sending tingles down my spine. His grip is gentle, yet firm enough that I know I’m held, possessive in the way that he’s always treated me.
Is he always like this? Or is it me?
I break the kiss, shuddering beneath his touch. “Do you always kiss like this?”
He tilts his head. “How do you mean?”
I don’t know. “Possessive? Dominant? Like I’m yours?” Yes, that’s it exactly.
“No,” he says, his lips curling in a satisfied smirk. Confident bastard. So fucking sexy.
And I’m reminded we’ve had this conversation—or one like it.
“Do you always do this?”I asked him before, when he fed me his cum.
“No,”he said.
Then why me?
This time, I say it aloud. “Then why me?”
He pauses, his face only inches away, pupils dilating. I can’t breathe while he’s looking at me like that, and he’s not answering, either. Have I done something wrong?
“Forget it,” I say, ducking my chin, eyes lowering.
His fingers tighten, lifting my face back to him. “Why you?” he echoes, the words on a breath. “Because you’re all I can think about since that first day in Franco’s.” His voice grows in intensity, deepens with emotion. “Because you’re fierce, brave…fuckinggorgeous, and vulnerable in ways I never expected.” He shakes his head as if in disbelief at the intensity of his own feelings. “Dangerous woman,” he mutters.
