Page 85 of Every Last Breath

“It’s been a long, sweaty day.” She hadn’t showered since 6:00 a.m. in the locker room. “I’ll get cleaned up first.”

“No need on my account. I’d prefer to smell you as you are.” His fiery gaze held hers captive, making her tingle with awareness. “But whatever makes you comfortable.”

She narrowed her eyes, wondering what happened to the brazen man who would’ve had her cornered and stripped naked by now. The man who turned her on like a faucet, taking her from zero to abso-fucking-lutely ready and wet with a few dirty words. The man who took control and drove her wild, the one she’d craved for years and needed tonight more than anything else.

Why in the hell had he gone all soft and sensitive?

She strode up to him and yanked his towel off, letting it drop to the floor. Staring at his erection, she backed up to the wall in the living room. “How about that massage?”

A wild playfulness she recognized danced in his eyes.

He knelt on the floor in front of her and unlaced her tactical boots, removing them along with her socks. He propped one of her feet on his thigh and massaged the knots of tension from the soles. His hands were so talented, his fingers so skilled, so darn good, she sighed.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“I’ve learned lots I intend to show you.”

He rubbed the other foot, his gaze holding hers, softening her in ways she didn’t quite like. They could have sex without it meaning anything. If she wanted to satisfy a basic, primal need without the entanglement of messy emotions, then she needed to eliminate the intimacy of foot rubs and kisses and treat him the way she did other men who’d passed through her bed. Men she didn’t see twice.

Like meat.

“That’s not the body part in need of a good…hard…rub,” she said.

“No?” He inched higher, kneading her fatigued muscles one at a time, turning her stomach to warm jelly. “Better?” He gave a devilish grin that would’ve been irresistible if it hadn’t been infuriating.

She gritted her teeth. “Warmer, but not quite there.”

“Tell me what you need.” His fingers worked up to her tense thighs. “I can’t give it unless I know what it is.”

On the inside, she squirmed with impatience, but she wasn’t about to show him how desperate she was to have him. “Take an educated guess.”

“I’ve become many things over the past few years, but a mind reader isn’t one of them.” His grin spread to a taunting smile. “Guessing is like gambling. I prefer certainty.”

She’d forgotten how much fun foreplay and sex had been with him, the erotic games they’d enjoyed, how they’d tantalized and excited one another.

Maybe remembering wasn’t the best idea.

Without fanfare or the hint of a seductive striptease, she took off her pants and underwear and kicked them to the side, exposing herself to his heated gaze.

She leaned over, bringing her mouth close to his. “How’s that for certainty?”

“Warmer, but not quite there.”

A small smile escaped her, and to her surprise, the tension in her shoulders eased.

“I’m going to need something verbal.” His rough tone tickled an itch she hadn’t been able to scratch for almost a decade. “Explicit. I need one hundred percent confidence what I think you mean isn’t a figment of my own naughty desires.”

Did he really expect her to crown him the winner of this tête-à-tête and say the words regardless of how hot it was making her?

“What do you need from me?” He kissed her inner thighs, spreading them wide, teeth scraping her skin, making her nerve endings thrum. “Hmm?” He hummed as he palmed her where she was growing wet and hungry to have him, and she shivered. “Tell me, and it’s yours.”

The hard heel of his hand rubbed against her and his fingers teased, featherlight.

Her sex clenched in happy anticipation, but he dropped his hand.

Whatever game he was playing, more than sex was at stake, and she refused to let him get the best of her as he’d done last night. “I’ll tell you, but first I need you to say, I win.”

“All right. I. Win.” He gave a slow, smooth smile and winked.