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“I need to fuck you,” I add, my voice calm and collected, the way I’d negotiate a deal. Because that’s exactly what this is—getting what I want, taking what I need, and then walking away.

Frozen for almost a full minute, she suddenly lets out a sarcastic laugh. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Her voice rises as she speaks, and she takes a step toward me, staring straight into my eyes.

I stay where I am, leaning against the kitchen counter, one ankle crossed over the other, arms folded. Angling my head slightly to the side, I raise an eyebrow, scanning her slowly from head to toe, taking in every inch of exposed skin, every metallic glint of her outfit.

“What makes you think I want to have sex with you?” she snaps.

Her question makes my gaze sharpen, locking onto hers. I don’t answer. What would I say? That I can’t get the memory of her grinding on me out of my head? That I saw the hunger in her eyes even when she tried to hide it?

Instead, I wait, curious to see where she’ll take this.

“You’re so arrogant you don’t think people might not see you as some kind of god. That there could be women who don’t want to sleep with you.” Her voice drips venom, each word a challenge.

What she doesn’t realize is that the more she provokes me, the more she turns me on, feeds the fire under my skin.

“You thought dragging me here would make me fall at your feet? Do anything for one night with ‘the great Ethan Hardy’?” She rolls her eyes as she spits my name, and my cock stirs in my pants at the sound, at the image in front of me.

I don’t think one night with her will be enough, but it’s all I’m allowing myself. The situation is already too complicated—she’s Sierra’s friend, she lives with Theo, and I’ll be seeing her again and again.

I stay silent, staring into her eyes. I want to watch her squirm under my gaze, watch her try to say or do anything to distract me.

She’s glaring at me with fury and, yes, desire. She can deny it all she wants, but it’s written across her face. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, her eyes flickering from mine to my lips, then lower and lower, as if she’s peeling me open.

“Turn around,” I say.

“What?” she flinches, shocked, her voice small.

“Turn around,” I repeat through clenched teeth.

With a ragged breath, she tries to compose herself, then—slowly, painfully slowly—she begins to turn. First her back to me, giving me a full view of her ass that leaves me speechless every time.

Fuck.

Almost every inch of skin is exposed, her curves on full display for me alone. Thank God I brought her here where no one else can see her.

“Enough? Or do you need to take a picture so you… you know.” She throws the words over her shoulder, teasing.

I actually take out my phone—it seems like a great idea—and snap a picture. Sliding it back into my pocket, I plant my palms firmly on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“Come here,” I say before she can voice the question that’s already written all over her face. Because, yes, I’m crazy. There’s no need for her to ask me that.

She turns back toward me, and the light catches her chest, her breasts fully displayed, nipples barely covered by those damned tiny metal hearts attached to the outfit.

Taking three slow, sensual steps toward me, she stops before our bodies touch.

“I thought the outfit for the contest had to be decent enough for the workplace,” I say, staring straight into her eyes.

“Good thing I don’t work here,” she smirks, winking playfully and biting her lower lip.

And just like that, my cock is so fucking hard it already hurts.

I raise a hand, wrapping it gently around her throat, bending her head slightly. “And that’s what made you dress like this?”

“Like what?” Her tone and eyes are so innocent you’d think she has no idea what I’m talking about.

I pull her closer, my lips at her ear, whispering, “This fucking sexy. Indecent.” Then I nip at her earlobe, making her shiver.

Her reaction makes me chuckle softly, which only seems to irritate her.