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She runs her fingers through her mess of hair, and a laugh catches in her throat. “I can’t remember the last time I slept that well, actually.”
“No?” I ask, self-preservation a thing of the past, as my other head, the one farther south, starts calling the shots. My gaze drops to her mouth. I want to taste her in the worst way.
“Well, maybe I can,” she says.
“Yeah?” I lean into her, breathing deeply.
“The last time you stayed with me. You walked me back to my apartment, crawled in bed with me.” She sighs. “That was such a long time ago.”
“Too long.” I lift my hand, and scrape the rough pad of my thumb along her bottom lip. Her eyes widen, like she’s startled by my touch. “A bit of toothpaste,” I explain.
“Oh.” Heated blue eyes move over my face, then flick away. She looks down, a cascade of blond hair covering her disappointment. “I thought...”
“What did you think?”
“Nothing,” she says, her shoulders swaying slightly as she shakes her head. As her gaze shifts away, I drop my hand, let it graze her bare arm. She sucks in a fast breath, not at all unfazed by my touch. I shouldn’t like that. I shouldn’t want that. But I do, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. Tomorrow there might be regret, but today is different. Today holds all kinds of promise. Besides, I’m not going into this blind—like I did last time with her. I’m older, wiser and have learned from my mistakes.
“The rules, remember,” I say.
She looks at me through her lowered lashes. “You can’t touch me,” she responds, her voice soft, breathless, like she’s been running a marathon.
I step closer. With our bodies only a hairbreadth away from intimate contact, I struggle to keep up my no-touching end of the contract. Heat and sexual need vibrate between us, and my dick reaches out to her, aches for her touch. Damned if the big guy doesn’t know what he wants. But I need her to make the first move. Yes, this is crazy and reckless, and could very well chip at the carefully constructed wall around my heart. But I can’t seem to stop myself.
“That’s right,” I say and hold my arms up, palms out. “You’re hands-off, Londyn.”
She angles her head, and her hair falls off her shoulder, exposing the long column of her neck. That’s where I want my mouth first, right there in that soft nook. After I press warm openmouthed kisses to her flesh, and fill my lungs with her scent, I’ll work my way down to her full breasts, her stomach, the spot between her legs that is undoubtedly flushed with heat and beckoning my tongue. Fiery warmth radiates off her in waves, cocooning me in a blanket of need. It’s a battle I can’t fight...can’t win.
“What about if I touch you first?”
My throat closes over as she plays this game with me. Yesterday I might have been sending mixed signals, wanting her in my bed but fighting every second of it. Today I’m pretty sure my actions and words are crystal clear. I want to corrupt this sexy woman, do all kinds of depraved things with the little rich girl. None of which stem from revenge.
“I believe that’s allowed,” I say.
“That’s what I’ve been told, too.”
“Londyn...”
“Yeah.”
Walk away, Cason. Run.
“Touch me.”
Fuck.
She takes a measured step closer, like she, too, is starved for my touch, and her hard nipples press against my bare chest. Yes! Grinning, like she holds all the cards—and she damn well knows she does—she moves slightly, rotating her curvy hips and scraping her gorgeous buds over my flesh. The resulting growl that climbs out of my throat elicits a soft, yet urgent little moan from her. Slowly, deliberately she moves against me. Well shit, I never knew she was a sexual tease. We never got that far in our relationship before.
“How about this?” she murmurs, her voice soft and needy, but in the far depths I catch a hint of playfulness. I forgot how much I liked the lighthearted side of her. She so rarely showed it. But if she wants to play with me today, I’m game.
“I’m not sure that would be considered touching,” I explain. “Not to the club’s definition, anyway. They’re a stickler for details, or so I’ve heard.”
“Oh, okay.” She looks up and to the left, like she’s in deep concentration. “Will this work?” As mischief tugs at her mouth, she goes up on her toes, moves her hips closer, until our sexes are aligned. I nearly come in my jeans.
Sweet mother of God, the heat radiating off her core nearly does me in, but I bite the inside of my jaw to maintain control.
“Oh, it works,” I say through clenched teeth. “But I’m afraid it still doesn’t quite fit the definition of touching.”
The soft pads of her fingers circle my nipple. “Would you consider this touching?”
