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He studies me as I study him. His face is handsome, too much so. Black wavy hair flops over his forehead. His jaw is square and strong, darkened by stubble. A straight nose adds to the hard lines of his symmetrical features. Sensual lips soften the harsh angles. The color of his eyes reminds me of Guinness. Instead of just brown, they glow with a deep ruby undertone. He’s so perfect it hurts to look at him. It’s the kind of male beauty no wise woman will fall for. It’s like my mother’s beauty. It’s too desirable. Men like him can never be faithful.
I pull a little, testing his intention. He holds fast, not letting go of my waist or breaking eye contact. My throat closes up. When I swallow around the lump, his gaze follows the movement. He visually traces the arch of my neck before focusing on my heaving chest. I try to control my breathing, but my fear is a biological reaction. Instead, I let my mind take over, looking for a weakness and an opportunity to exploit.
Setting my elbow free, he plants his hand on the closet door next to my face and lowers his cheek to mine. His stubble grates lightly over my skin before he turns his face and inhales with his nose in my hair. He’s sniffing me like a dog, but the animalistic behavior doesn’t shock me. I already know he’s not a gentleman. What frightens me is when he moves his hand from my waist up my side, inviting a shiver.
He must feel my reaction, because when he meets my gaze again, satisfaction burns in his eyes. He drags his fingers over the side of my breast, the pads barely brushing my T-shirt. Goosebumps run down my arm.
Slowly, he reaches for my throat. Wrapping his splayed fingers around my neck, he pushes my body gently against the shelves. The bottles and brushes rattle as I grip the edge behind me for leverage. Still holding my gaze, he brings his mouth to mine.
I go still. I know what’s coming, but the warmth of his lips when he slants them over mine shocks me. What shocks me more is that it’s not unpleasant. Something stirs in my belly. My pulse flutters. Anticipation mixes with fear, sending heat to my lower body. Like a trapped animal, I keep perfectly still as he explores the curve of my bottom lip with his tongue.
Blood gushes like static noise in my ears when he parts my lips and slips his tongue inside my mouth for a more thorough exploration. I don’t kiss him back. I’m too busy processing my reaction, trying to get a handle on what’s happening while waiting for the right moment. I’m waiting for him to get carried away before I knee him in the balls, but he doesn’t grow weak. He’s meticulous, tasting the depth of my mouth with too much control.
What is he doing? Men like him don’t go for girls like me. They go for the pretty ones who aren’t broken, the ones who aren’t afraid to kiss them back.
At my lack of response, he lifts his head and tilts his hips forward, letting me feel the hardness between his legs. He’s thick and long under his jeans, hot on the naked strip of my stomach where the hem of my T-shirt has pulled up.
Studying my face, he says with certainty, “You want me.”
That’s what this kiss was? A test?
He turns me on, but he’s wrong. He’s the furthest thing from what I want. “Do you always take what you want?”
His gaze dips to the pulse in my neck that beats under his fingers. “Yes.”
I lift my chin as much as his hold allows. “Even if a woman doesn’t want you?”
A lazy smile curves his lips. “As I said, you want me.”
I don’t falter under his scrutiny. I let him look into my eyes because they don’t lie. “You mistake my aversion for arousal.”
His eyes tighten minutely. To my surprise, he backs off, not easing his grip on my throat but putting space between us.
“Have dinner with me,” he says. “We can talk this through.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
He brushes his thumb along the curve of my neck. “You have to eat, don’t you?”
I try to repress a shiver and fail. “It’s midnight.”
“Have you eaten dinner?”
“No.”
He raises a brow.
“I don’t have money on me,” I say.
“My treat.”
“No thanks. I don’t want your money.”
The line of his jaw hardens. “Because it’s dirty?”
“Because I don’t like to owe people.”
He smiles again, seeming amused. “No strings.”
There are never no strings. Not in our world.
His tone is quiet, but it’s not a soothing kind of quiet. “I never ask twice.”
Ah. He’s the arrogant type. If a woman says no, it’s her loss. He won’t chase after anyone. With his handsome face, I should’ve known. Only more reason to stay away from him.
