Page 15 of Devoured


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“Good,” I say.

She glances at me over her shoulders. “You like that, though, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do,” I say, my voice a husky murmur.

“You want me to hate you.”

“I need you to hate me, Peyton. If you didn’t, I’d bend you right over that table and bury myself inside you.” She goes still, deathly

still. I guess I got her attention now. “Would you hate that?” I ask.

A beat of silence, and then another. “Yes, I’d hate that,” she finally says, the big fat lie hovering in the air, taking up space between us.

“Good.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Peyton

I’D BEND YOU right over that table and bury myself inside you.

Okay, I might hate him—or not—but yeah, I seriously want him to follow through with that threat, which is probably why I spent all of last night tossing and turning between the sheets, imagining that dirty scenario playing out in real time.

No man has ever talked to me like that before. Is it shameful that I liked the deliciously filthy description of what he wanted to do to me, that it fueled all my darkest fantasies? Maybe, but I don’t really care about that. Maybe it’s the fresh Mediterranean air stirring a desire in me, or maybe I want to explore our kiss, expand upon it. I really don’t know, but I’m as surprised as Roman that I suddenly want to get dirty with this man, want to be shameless and wide open to experience what I’ve never experienced before.

Go for it, Peyton.

At least now I know what’s going on with him. There’s an insane pull between us but he has some misguided loyalty to my brother where I’m concerned. I’m a grown woman for God’s sake, and who I choose to sleep with is my business. It’s about to become Roman’s business, too. Oh yeah, he’s about to learn firsthand that Cason has no say in my sex life.

The sound of Roman moving in the bathroom reaches my ears, and I kick my blankets off, my mind visualizing him stripping down to jump in the shower, his hard body hot and naked beneath the stream of water. Sweet baby Jesus, last night, the sight of him in the boxer shorts—the soft cotton the only thing separating my mouth from his very generous bulge—well...let’s just say that eyeful awakened every nerve in my body. I’ve seen naked before, but not that kind of naked. He was all hard muscles and testosterone—the view completely hypnotizing—and it was a quick reminder that I haven’t been touched in a long time, and never by anyone like him.

I slide from my bed, and through the crack in the bathroom door, I catch sight of Roman in the shower, his large body obscured in the steamy glass. What a shame. That thought makes me chuckle. Honest to God, I don’t even know who I am with him. I’m not the type of girl to go lusting after a guy; heck, I haven’t even wanted a man’s hands on me since college—not that any guys were fighting to go out with me, either.

And why have you been flying solo, Peyton?

Oh, maybe because I’ve been hung up on Roman for far too long, and it’s definitely time to do something about it. I’m not looking for a future, but why shouldn’t I exercise my marital rights while we’re pretending? What would it hurt? Neither one of us wants anything more. We both know where the other stands, so why not have a bit of fun?

Why not, indeed?

I hang up a few of my dresses and putter around, a plan forming, taking shape in my mind. I bite back a grin as I think about my next move and all the ways I can press his buttons—sexually. Oh, this is going to be fun and the poor guy isn’t going to know what hit him.

The water turns off, and his footsteps slap on the tile floor. I hum to draw his attention. His movements still behind me, and I bend to get the last of the things from my bag, purposely aiming my ass toward him. My sleep shorts lift, exposing the swell of my ass, and excitement skitters through me when I hear a low rumble, the deep sound reminding me of a wild animal’s hungry growl. I stand and turn, blinking innocently at the man peering at me through the door that has been left ajar. For the first time in my life, I’m suddenly glad I’m afraid of the dark.

“Good morning,” I say, trying to sound casual as he stands there, in nothing but a towel knotted around his hips. My nipples swell, and I don’t bother to hide them as he grips the doorknob, his eyes dark, fierce like an animal about to take down its prey. “Don’t bother closing it,” I say. “I’m going to jump in the shower behind you. Do you mind if I soap up with your body wash? I forgot to bring some.”

“Peyton,” he grumbles, his voice low and dark as his attention strays from my face and falls to my peaked nipples.

I put my hands on the small of my back and push my hips forward, like I’m stretching out my tight muscles. “Yes?”

“About last night. What I said,” he begins, sounding rattled, unsure. He grabs a fistful of hair as he waves his other hand between the two of us. “We just can’t act on this, okay?”

“This. What do you mean by this?” I ask, feigning innocence as the bathroom door widens to give me a better view of his body. Lord, talk about a big yummy snack. Everything about the man is hard. Every damn inch of him delicious, and there are an awful lot of inches. I resist the urge to throw my hands up and shout out a cheer.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he growls through clenched teeth, a good indication that he’s wound as tightly as I am. Damned if I don’t like that.

Sexual tension arcs between us, sizzles in the air like a live current, as I say, “Just so you know, my sex life is my business, not my brother’s. If I wanted to sleep with you, or bend over so you could bury yourself inside me, the choice would be mine to make.”

His throat works as he swallows. “Don’t you think I have a say in it, too?”

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