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Especially when it rose from my feet and froze on my chest.
“I only brought pj’s,” I told him. “Hopefully, you’re okay with that.”
As my breasts bounced a little with each step, my nipples hardened in response to his eyes, which still hadn’t moved.
But what did change was his expression.
He looked ferocious.
“Did you wear a bra to work?”
An odd question, I thought, as I came around the side of the couch and took a seat a few cushions down from him, noticing how delicious he looked in his gray sweatpants and T-shirt. “Yes.”
“Then did you just forget to put it back on?”
Now I knew where he was going with this conversation.
“No. I didn’t forget.”
“Rule number one”—he turned down the TV as though I couldn’t hear him over the commentators, but the balance of both volumes was just fine—“unless you’re agreeing to my proposition and you’re going to allow me to devour you on every surface of this condo, then you won’t be wearing these tiny, provocative outfits around my place when you live here. Understood?”
“Tiny?” I glanced down my body. I was in cotton athletic shorts that I’d rolled once so they sat lower on my waist and higher on my thighs. They weren’t like boy shorts. They covered me just fine. “And provocative?” I pinched the bottom of my tank and pulled it off my skin, the material snapping right back the moment I let go. This was a set I’d wear to the gym or out walking. It certainly wasn’t racy or extra sexy. “I would hardly use those words to describe this getup.” I winked. “But okay, I hear you.”
“Rule number two, you’ll wear a bra.”
I laughed—two was even more ridiculous than one. “Let me just state the obvious. They’re little, as you know. I don’t really need to wear a bra most of the time unless I want to make them look bigger, which I don’t. I’m fine with them just the way they are. Besides, you’ve already seen them, so I don’t really understand the point of that rule.”
“Do you want me to fuck you on this couch right now?”
Heat wafted across my body.
Of course I wanted him to.
But for now, I said, “You haven’t earned the right to fuck me.”
He glanced back at the TV. “Then abide by my rules. Got it?”
Nice Guy was gone.
Mr. Wicked had returned.
“Bra and snowsuit, check.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“I’m glad we have that straight.” The side of his cheek flexed as he ground his jaws together. “As you probably guessed from the scent, I took the liberty of ordering us some pizza. It’s in the kitchen. Help yourself.”
My stomach growled at his offer. “Have you already eaten?”
“No.”
I wondered why he didn’t already have a plate. He must have been waiting for me.
“Would you like me to grab you some?” I pushed myself to the end of the couch.
His gaze slowly returned to me. “All right.”
“Why am I not surprised ... you like to be waited on, what a shocker.” I tried not to look at him when I walked by where he was sitting, but I could feel the heat from his glare, and when I glanced in his direction, his eyes didn’t meet mine.
Because his were on my chest.
