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I only look at her once, and after finding her watching me as she swipes her delicate finger through cream cheese before licking it off like she’s teasing a cock, I keep my focus across the room.
“Why did you pull that shit today?”
She shrugs, and it’s an answer I expect from her. I’m beginning to think she has issues with impulse control.
“Why did you come home?”
She shrugs again, and I begin to reconsider my stance on shaking some sense into her.
“Running is no fun when I’m not being chased.” She pops a full slice of cucumber into her mouth, and her struggle to chew draws all of my attention.
“It’s dangerous. How’s your leg?”
Without hesitation, she lifts her leg, swinging it out from under the small table and drapes it across the top. A small bandage adorns her kneecap, but it doesn’t detract from the silkiness of her tanned skin.
“It’s fine. Just a little scrape. Were you worried about me?”
“I have a job to do.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
I frown, leaning back in the chair and crossing my arms over my chest.
“That!” she hisses, pointing at me. “That’s all you ever do. Why are you always so damn serious? Do you ever let loose? Have fun?”
I slowly blink at her. I doubt there’s a single thing I could say to make her stop acting recklessly.
“Do you want to play strip poker?”
My frown deepens, but it’s mostly in disappointment of the lower half of me that thinks the suggestion is the best idea in the world.
“Does anything ever penetrate that cool and calm demeanor of yours?” I don’t say a word. “Do you even smile when you come?”
She drops her leg from the table, then stands, but she doesn’t grab her dirty dish and I swear I’m going to teach her some manners if she walks away from this table and leaves that plate for someone to clean up after her.
“How often do you laugh?” She leans in closer, and I do my best to keep my eyes on hers. God do I try, but the charm on the end of her necklace swings like a hypnotizing pendulum, and of course right behind it are those perfect tits of hers. One quick glance is all I allow myself before I’m staring back into her eyes. “What sounds do you make in bed?”
She inches even closer, her hair tumbling close enough that I’m able to get the scent inside my nose like I fantasized about earlier in the day. She’s inches away, playing a game of chicken I didn’t sign up for but I’m determined to win.
Irritation grows in her pretty features and I want to commend myself for at least keeping my face impassive. God knows the rest of me is on fire. My lips tingle with the need to touch hers. My hands are clenched into painful fists under my elbows. My cock, always the first to lose its mind is standing at attention. Half of my mind is trying to convince myself to sweep everything off the table, spread her out with her legs over my shoulders, and discover what types of sounds she makes when she comes. The other half is warning me that we’re already crossing a million lines.
Suddenly, she snaps up straight and grabs her plate from the table. Without a word, she drops the dish in the dishwasher and leaves the room.
I’ve never felt more relieved and disappointed in my life.Chapter 6Remington
I take in gasps of air, flipping over and floating on my back.
My seduction techniques usually work better than they did earlier. Playing men to get what I want was a skill I honed watching my mother at a young age. Seduction and temptation is how she convinced Charles that marrying her was the best decision he’d ever make. The man, despite the picture-perfect image he had, was still a man at the end of the day. They always cave. Men always think with their cocks when push comes to shove.
Well, not Flynn Coleman. He doesn’t seem the least bit interested. I thought I had him when his eyes scanned my chest earlier, but when he looked back up at me, all I could read was disgust in his eyes. Maybe he doesn’t like to be seduced.
I purse my lips, running my hands over the top of the water. I’m in a full bathing suit. The sting of rejection from Flynn made me want to cover up. If it were practical, I would’ve put on a chin-to-ankle wet suit.
Maybe he’s the type of man that wants a quiet, shy virgin-like—if he only knew—type girl.
Whatever his tastes are, I don’t seem to fit the bill.
Leaning close to him was an attempt to drive him wild, yet I was the one rushing out of the room because it was getting difficult to control my own breathing. Turning men on has always been a game—one I controlled every aspect of. Tonight? Somehow the tables were turned and I was the one left panting. And what does that say about me, because he didn’t do a thing, didn’t say a word. His warm breath ghosted over my skin, but it was a life-sustaining act not an attempt to make goosebumps cover every inch of my body. Except, that’s exactly what happened.
