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My mouth twitches. “I’m not sure what you mean. I think I watched you react to me plenty—”
“You only see what you want to see,” she says over me. “That’s how people like you operate.” She flexes her hip, simultaneously turning her body on its side. A view of her plump breast becomes hindered behind the slope of her shoulder.
“People like me.” I eye the ceiling, sensing the thinly-veiled insult in her tone. “I’m assuming you don’t mean expert listeners…”
“The rest of us peons are invisible to you,” she tells the wall. “At least until you need us for something. Then you are relentless. You never really listen to the words coming from someone else’s mouth. You never really see how you affect them—”
“So, try me.”
Her jaws snap shut.
“Something tells me that you just don’t like talking,” I say. “You can’t blame anyone for not hearing you if you choose not to speak—”
“I loved my job.” I don’t expect that line of attack. She senses it and turns to face me over her shoulder, lifting her head from the pillow. “I. Loved. My. Job.” She aims every word like a missile, straight in my direction. “And you just fired me. Without any warning. Without any explanation—”
“I have my reasons.”
She rolls her eyes. “You haveonereason—Adrian Riley.”
“I’m starting to believe that maybe I’m not the one who has trouble seeing clearly.”
She raises an eyebrow and turns to face me fully, heedless of how her breasts sway with every deliberate movement. “You’re afraid of him,” she tells me, her gaze boring deep, that mouth set in that haughty, prissy line.
“Now I know you’re blind—”
“Not in the typical way,” she adds, tilting her head back to size me up in a single, unamused glance. “He knows how to manipulate people into doing his bidding. Even worse—” She leans forward, wafting the scent of roses from every damn pore. “He manipulates people, and theylikeit. They flock to him in spite of it. His power over people scares you.”
“Is that so?” Somehow she managed to manipulate herself so that she’s resting on her knees, her hands braced on either side of her. The position reminds me of some bloody girl scout, gathered around the campfire to gossip about whatever bastard she can’t stand. I glance at her navel and the ridge of her stomach visible above the waistband of her panties. In a porno, perhaps.
“So,” she declares with a nod. “If I were inhisbed…”
My mind instantly conjures up an image to accompany the suggestion—her, twisted and panting beneath the sheets. Adrian Riley sneering down at her as he mentally processed every way he could use their tryst to his own damn benefit. My jaw clenches, and something in my expression makes her frown.
“I’d probably be naked,” she says, and something in my chest catches fire. Ignites. A sound rips from my throat that I don’t recognize—was that a goddamn growl? “But he’d make it seem like my idea. It wouldn’t feel like a game with him. Though maybe that’s a point in your column,” she softly admits. “At least with you, I know thatthis—” she waves her hand toward my side of the bed. “Will never become anything more serious.”
She sounds so damn matter-of-fact. Though, it is the truth.
“In your rush to praise Adrian Riley, you seem to be overlooking that youarenaked. In my bed. Right now.”
She flicks a strand of hair over her shoulder as if the current reality is nothing more than a minor detail. “You didn’t seduce me,” she says. “You goaded me. There is a difference.”
I raise an eyebrow and allow my gaze to drift. Her thighs. The curve of her ass. “Regardless of the method, I’ve gotten you naked.”
“I’ve gotten a little something out of it, myself,” she says, her eyes roving down to my hands. I flex each finger, and she blushes. She’s more than just a cock-tease, full of a million little contradictions. Crass one minute. Playing innocent, the next.
“That you have.” I run my thumb along my jaw. Bring it to my mouth. Graze the tip with my tongue.
I can practically see her throat jerk as she swallows before haughtily turning away. “And this is what I mean,” she says. “It’s all just a game—”
“If I were to attempt to woo you, then how would I go about it?” I ask, surprisingly curious.
She casts a suspicious glance in my direction. “Well, for starters, you might at least pretend to give a damn about me. As a person. Rather than my breasts.”
I tilt my head in her direction and take my time observing every dusky surface. “They are beautiful breasts—”
She slaps her right hand over one. “You might also ask me a question aboutmyselffor once.”
That is one suggestion I simply don’t understand. “I would,” I say cautiously. “If I didn’t already know everything about you, that is… necessary.”
