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Was she awake?
Had that man come back and were they over there together?
Anger smashed into him and he shook his head, trying to dispel it. Nothing worked, and he realized that when the door swung open, allowing him to see Daisy Wentz in person once more.
“There a reason you’re pounding on the door like a madman, Mr. Livingston?”
He ran his gaze over her. Down. Up. Then down again, where his eyes locked on the light gray fuzzy socks with number sign tassels.
His lips twitched, the edge in him settling along with the wildness that had been pacing within him like a wolf. Did this woman have any fucking idea how adorable she was?
“Mr. Livingston?”
“You know you have hashtags on your socks?”
He felt more than heard her sigh. And he wasn’t sure how that was possible as they weren’t touching.
Yet.
Because, he realized, he had a serious hard-on for this woman. And he was a man who got what he wanted.
“It’s an octothorp, and I hardly imagine you came banging on this door at this time because of what was on my socks.” She bit down on her lower lip, making his cock stir. “In fact, you couldn’t have known I was wearing them.”
“I wasn’t aware you wanted me thinking about your wardrobe.”
She drew back, her expression confused. “I don’t.”
His lips curled up as he wasn’t able to stop the grin. “Are you sure about that?”
Daisy looked entirely out of sorts. Was it possible no one had ever teased her before? What about the man she had been with?
“What reason do you have for coming to this door at such an hour?”
His dick twitched again. This woman and her firm, take-no-shit tone were nothing but goddamn aphrodisiacs to him. He wanted to push and see how much more she would interact.
Of course, pushing into her would work just as well.
“You took the afternoon off,” he drawled in a low tone, unable to keep the edge out of it.
She didn’t move, just held his gaze with that unreadable expression she waved around like a queen and with a scepter.
“No comment?” He inched closer to her, noting the kick in the pulse at her neck, but she didn’t shift away from him.
“You made a statement, therefore there isn’t anything for me to reply to.”
He bent, positioning his face nearer to her. God, she smelled good. Livingston longed to bury his face into her neck and just inhale. Okay, not just inhale. He also wanted to bite, nibble, suck, and mark her. So the rest of the world knew she belonged to him.
“I’m presuming you’re finished if you have time to traipse around my city having a date with a man.” He held up the papers he somehow had the sense to bring with him. “Contract.”
“You’re an ass.” She snatched it from him.
“That’s what happens when you assume, not presume.”
“Assuming makes an ass out of you and me. Given I’m not one, yet you are, I’m fully aware of the word choice you provided, Mr. Livingston.” She canted her head up a bit. “I will not apologize for spending time with a man I love dearly who stopped by to see me because he knew I was here and we’ve not seen one another for well over a year.”
He growled low and settled his hand at the small tuck of her waist. Fuck, he could span her waist with his hands. Memories of a night not all that long ago flickered back to life.
“Were you my woman, I sure as hell wouldn’t leave you alone for that long. I’d keep you close, where I could fuck you every night.”
She swiped her tongue over her lower lip and he noticed the small mole in the left corner. “We know this won’t be an issue because I’m not yours.”
“Who was he?” His question was barely on this side of feral.
She stepped back and he took the silent invitation—whether she’d actually meant it or not, he didn’t give a damn. Stepping into her suite, he enjoyed a deep breath, something which soothed the angry beast alive within him.
He reached over her head and grasped the door, snaring her gaze and hiding his smirk when he flicked his wrist, sending it closed with a firm click. Livingston watched her eyes widen ever so slightly and her throat bob when she swallowed.
Twice.
“I’m waiting for an answer.”
“Mr. Rhodes.”
No. He wasn’t taking that again. With a rumble, probably more sexual than angry, he stepped toward her, forcing himself into her space.
“Livingston.”
“Our relationship isn’t such that I would address you by your first name.”
The lure was too much and he gave in. Livingston reached out and lifted a section of her hair from her shoulder and allowed it to slide through his fingers.
“Daisy,” he murmured, bringing the hair up closer to his nose, inhaling with a groan. Luscious. That’s what he thought when her intoxicating scent hit him. He wanted nothing more than to take a bite out of her. Memories banged but he didn’t open the door, he wanted to focus on the here and now.
