AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Harder, and harder, we kiss, our teeth clicking together in our passion, our need to be somehow closer to each other.
I break it off at the last moment, before our passion flares beyond the point of no return.
I’m on my feet, panting, pacing to the window, and watching the droplets of condensation as they slowly make their way down.
“Not now,” I pant. “She could catch us.”
“I know,” he rumbles. “It’s just so hard to be in control with you, Sadie.”
“What are we going to do?” I demand, spinning on him. “Because I know what we should do, Saul. We should end this right here. We should tell each other that this night, this impossible freaking night, it never happened. We could do that, right, just agree to pretend?”
“Is that what you want, Sparkplug?” he says, standing slowly, still wearing just shorts and a T-shirt, his manhood enflamed again by our kiss, a huge and delicious-looking outline.
“No,” I admit. “I want you, okay? But I also don’t want to ruin Fiona’s life. So you see? We’re stuck.”
“I don’t have an easy answer,” he says, stalking closer to me until we’re entangled again, his arms bracing my back, my hands balled up against the firmness of his chest. “The only thing we can do is tell her.”
“No,” I say reflexively. “No freaking way.”
He tilts his head at me. “She’ll have to find out eventually.”
He’s right. You know he’s right.
“Maybe,” I mutter. “But—I don’t know, maybe we should go on a date first or something. Maybe we can convince ourselves that this is just a passing fling. You might not feel the same about me when you see me chowing down on a burger.”
This comes out in a rush, a half-joke, but a playful glint comes into Saul’s eyes and he smirks broadly.
“Oh, really, Sparkplug?” he taunts. “So that’s the game you want to play, is it?
“It’s not a game.” I pout, knowing how much he loves it, delighted when his expression twists in that savage lust-filled way. “It’s a plan, a plan to make you hate me. And I think it’s going to be very effective.”
“If you’re that confident, let’s make a wager,” he growls, hands smoothing up my back, and then up to my neck and through my hair, tickling, possessing.
“Yeah? What’ve you got in mind?” I say feistily, stunned at how quickly we can sink into banter after all the seriousness.
It’s just so much easier sometimes to turn life into a game.
Why? Because then you don’t have to feel guilty?
“If we go on a date and discover that we’re not compatible, which, for the damn record, has a zero percent chance of happening … but let’s just pretend it could so that when you lose, I get what I want.”
“And what do you want?” I whisper.
“I’m getting to that,” he smirks. “So if you win, we’ll agree that it wasn’t meant to be and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
Our eyes meet and we both burst out laughing, even though we both make an effort to keep the laughter quiet. We both know how absurd this proposition is, the idea that Saul and I would be put off by each other is up there with flying pigs and frozen hells.
But it gives us an excuse, a game, a way to circumnavigate our guilt.
“Okay, fine,” I say, once our laughter has passed. “But what if you win, huh?”
He brushes his lips along mine, a rough searing contact. “When I win,” he growls, “I get to take you somewhere private, somewhere nobody can interrupt us. And I get to do anything to you I want. I get to treat you like the curvy sex freak I’m going to make you—but just for me, Sparkplug. You’ll become a come-hungry sex goddess. But just for me, understand?”
“Yes,” I whimper, shivering under the combusting possession in his eyes, my sex just as hot, my everything just as hot. “But how are we going to even go on this date?”
His smirk drops for a moment.
He steps back, considering.
“If you don’t want to tell Fiona …”
“That would ruin the point of the wager, wouldn’t it?” I say quickly, trying to keep this in the realm of fun, trying to steer our concerns away from the messiness of betrayal.
“Okay, then I’m going to have to work something out,” he sighs. “It’s the only way … until we know for sure. But I don’t want to do this for long, Sadie. I don’t think you do, either.”
“No,” I admit shakily. “Of course not.”
We pause, and I think we both know that this is the moment. We could take this silence and fill it with reasonable talk about how this has gone far enough.
We could back down from the parapet of our blossoming affection.
But we don’t.
The wind howls.
The night wears on.
And I know with devastating certainty that my heart already belongs to Saul Sykes.
