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I nipped him with my teeth. Not hard, just enough to get his attention.
“Whoa!” Jerking back, he gaped at me a moment, just staring.
Oh yeah. I had his attention now.
“Uh…” he started but nothing else came out until he furrowed his brow and said, “Bella?”
“Yes?” I murmured, biting my lip as I eyed his thick, muscled chest before lifting my hand and running my fingers over his shirt where it molded perfectly to his defined pecs. Damn, but he was built to perfection.
He grasped my wrist as if to stop me, only to halt himself and pull away again. “Um…” he said instead, looking extremely uncertain. “Whatcha doing?” he finally asked.
I lifted my gaze to his. His brown eyes were wide with shock and fear and maybe a little interest.
“What?” I asked playfully, smiling big. “You said we could distract each other.”
“But I didn’t mean—that is—” He frowned in confusion. “What did you think I meant?”
Since he seemed to be having problems reading my intentions, I reached down and gripped him between the legs.
“Holy shit!” he shrieked.
“I meant…” Stepping close until my face was inches from his, I began to massage him boldly, learning the feel of him through his jeans. “You’re not leaving here tonight until we each have the orgasms we both obviously need.”
“Fuck, Bells,” he breathed.
His lashes fluttered shut as the bulge under my fingers began to grow and harden. His lips parted and his head fell back slightly, as if all he could do for a moment was simply enjoy my touch and let the sensations draw him under.
“You…” he started, sounding drugged, but then he opened his eyes and focused on my face. “Damn it.” Jerking out of my grip, he lifted his hands to show the world he wasn’t touching me as he accused, “You’ve been drinking.”
I gave him a shrug and glassy smile. “Maybe a little.”
“Or a lot,” he argued, turning to the side away from me and reaching down to readjust himself in his pants. “Christ, I can’t believe I—hey!”
When I reached forward to slip my hand over his taut ass, he leaped farther away, then faced me head-on, legs slightly braced as if encountering a threat.
“No.” Holding up a finger, he shook it in reprimand. “We are not—you’re drunk.”
“Not that drunk,” I argued.
“Bella,” he warned, backing away again when I stepped forward. “Stay back. I’m serious.”
“Ooh,” I murmured with a shiver and grinned broadly as I moved even closer, causing him to back into the wall of the hall, where he had nowhere to escape. “You’re serious? That sounds intense. And so damn hot. Now, why don’t you seriously get inside me?”
His eyes swirled with heat before he gulped, shook his head, and lifted his hands higher, refusing to partake. Sweat misted his brow. “I said no, Bella. You and I are not having sex. Not now. Not ever. You got that?”
Well.
Wow.
Not ever, huh? That w
as pretty damn definite. And rude, if you wanted my drunk opinion.
I slowed to a halt and swallowed, trying to taste something other than acute rejection.
With a scowl, he dropped his hands and eased forward. “Hey, no,” he warned. “Don’t look at me like I’m rejecting you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Except that’s exactly what you just did.”
