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It’s easier to go with the same answer I gave Callie. Or was it Cora?
“Afraid not, Penelope.”
She breathes out a low and slow breath that crawls under my ribs and fills the hollow cavity there. Her expression is indifferent, unreadable, but her eyes spark with something hotter.
When they lock onto mine, my heart slams against my ribs.
Rain falls from her hair onto my loafers in loud, sticky plops. Outside, cars glide over the wet cobbles of Main Street, their tires creating a frictionless hiss and their headlights washing over rain-soaked glass. They shift a fragmented yellow glow over the planes of Penelope’s face.
My gaze crawls down to her plump, parted lips, then down the curve of her throat as it bobs.
“The storm has stopped,” she whispers.
“Five minutes ago.”
She takes a step toward me, tucking her book under her arm. “I should go.”
My jaw tightens as her chest grazes against mine. When she realizes I haven’t moved, she tenses and looks up at me warily.
A familiar feeling swirls through my veins. It’s dark and dangerous and has no place in my blood on a random Thursday evening. The sadistic thoughts creeping out from the shadows in my brain shouldn’t be there, either.
I tilt my head to the side. Slide my hands into my pockets and curl them into fists.
“What if I don’t let you go?”
It’s a question, not a threat.
Maybe.
Whatever it is, it shouldn’t be leaving my lips.
Her frown does little to hide the fear that passes through her doe eyes in a wave. She tilts her chin and says, “I’ll fight you off.”
My thumb sliding across my mouth conceals my dark amusement. Where does this chick get her confidence from? The top of her head barely reaches the third button on my shirt, for god’s sake. If I wanted to…have my way with her, there’s nothing she could do to stop it.
Both excitement and unease hum under my skin. “And how would you do that?”
What the fuck are you doing, Rafe? It seems like every interaction I have with this girl turns into a game. This one feels like revenge. For wearing my aftershave. For shaking her head when I asked her if she wanted me to be a gentleman. I want to make her as uncomfortable as she makes me. Only, this game feels riskier than a roll of a dice or a halfhearted bet.
And I can’t say for sure I’ll be the one who wins.
Fuck this.
I’m not in the business of scaring women for my own amusement, anyway. Not like this. I’m just tired and horny and probably growing delirious from the lack of oxygen in here. I’m about to step aside with an easy laugh when Penelope’s eyes dart below my belt.
My blood heats. Silly girl. The first rule of playing any game is to never let your opponent see your next move. I’ll give it to her—she’s quick. I’m quicker. As her knee comes up to meet my groin, my knee comes up too. I slide it between her legs and pin her to the back wall with it.
Heart slamming with the adrenaline that comes with a win, I press my body into hers, a triumphant laugh humming deep in my throat.
“Too slow, Penelope. Now what?”
She doesn’t reply, and with every heavy second that crawls past, a hot, prickly awareness creeps through me. The sharpness of her fingernails digging into my biceps. Her steam-like breath against my Adam’s apple. The warmth of her pussy mound against my thigh, and the fast, flickering pulse that beats in the middle of it.
Fuck.
Glaring at a raindrop as it fights its way down the glass, I take a slow, deep breath. It does little to cool the lust searing through my veins.
Don’t do it, Rafe.
