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She ran her tongue across her bottom lip. “Why does it have to be complicated?”
He shrugged. He didn’t even know, and he was tired of trying to figure it out. He slid his fingers into her hair and leaned closer. She leaned toward him, and he watched her lips until he brushed them with his own. Her hand came up and clung to his shoulder, and he was lost. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her. Finally. She kissed him back. There was nothing hesitant about it. She pressed her lips to his, and when he slid his arm around her to draw her closer, she gave a little moan. That set his body on fire, and he let himself go. He explored her mouth and slid his hand down her back; she pulled him closer and pressed her breasts against his chest. Damn! The feel of her drove him crazy. She was so soft and so willing. When she finally pulled away from him, he felt bereft. He wanted to pull her back in, kiss her some more, listen to her soft moans and look forward to hearing more of them—tonight.
Reluctantly, he sat back and met her gaze. Would he get to hear her moan again tonight?
She smiled. “What took you so long?”
He chuckled. “What took you so long?”
“I wasn’t sure if I was reading you right. I thought you were …” she shrugged, “but then you kept flipping the switch.”
He nodded. He couldn’t deny it. “Not because I don’t like you.”
“Why then?”
He wasn’t sure he could explain it, wasn’t sure he even knew, but from on the look on her face he knew had to try. “Because, according to my assistant, I’m a womanizer.”
She gave him a puzzled look, and he waited, wondering why he’d told her that and what her reaction might be. It wasn’t anything he might have expected. “So, womanize me,” she said with a laugh.
He shook his head. “You’re not that kind of girl.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. You just don’t strike me as the kind of girl who …” How could he put it?
“Who what?”
He shrugged.
She smiled. “You’re scared if you sleep with me, I’ll want something more?”
He shook his head. That wasn’t it, was it? No, it wasn’t. To him sleeping with women was a game he played—and the women he played it with were players. Piper wasn’t a player. Her smile was fading. He had to say something. “You’re a good girl.”
She laughed. “And you don’t like good girls?”
“I like you.”
“But you only hook up with bad girls?”
Cameron frowned. Was that it? It seemed he was taking too long, she was starting to look pissed. He had to say something. “I only hook up with girls who …” How to finish that sentence?
“Girls who what?”
He racked his brain, trying to figure out what the truth was, not just so he could answer Piper, but also so he could understand it for himself. He was shocked when understanding finally dawned. “Girls who I wouldn’t want to date.”
She frowned. “What?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, but it’s true. The women I know enjoy hooking up just for the sake of hooking up.”
“And you see me as a good girl, so you don’t think I’d want to do that?”
“Do you?” Maybe she did. Maybe he had the wrong idea about her.
She stared at him.
“When was the last time you just hooked up with some someone?”
She shrugged, and he knew he was right about her. Larissa and all the other girls he knew would have named a day within the last week. He was sure of it.
