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“Passion isn’t an emotion? Desire?”
“They are, but—”
“But you think I’m crude. That all I am is horny. Like all I want is to fuck you all the time. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes,” I say, meeting his gaze. “That’s what you’re basing this whole relationship on, aren’t you? On a one-night stand.”
“Would you believe me if I said that the part I think about most isn’t the sex?”
“No.”
“Then good, I won’t say it.” He tilts my chin up, his hand lingering on my cheek. “Instead, I’ll tell you this. I think about you all the time. About your lips, about your tongue. About your moans. The way it felt to make you come. I think about Vegas, about our honeymoon. I can’t stop thinking now that you’re in my life and it’s driving me insane.”
“Sounds like a personal problem to me.”
“It’s very much your problem too.” He leans down, lips brushing my neck. “You distract me too much.”
“Am I supposed to feel bad?”
“You’re supposed to let me make you feelgood. That’s all I want.”
“How noble. I guess you get nothing from it then?”
“Nothing at all.” His lips brush my neck. “I feel nothing when you’re shaking under my hands.”
“I don’t shake.”
“Moan. Quiver. Gasp.”
“I do no such thing.” I close my eyes as his finger grips my hair and his lips come near mine. “I feel nothing when you touch me.”
“Your skin flushes pink. You moan my name, over and over. You say it like each syllable tastes like honey. You love saying my name as my tongue laps you up.”
“I like singing in the shower. I like chanting at baseball games. I definitely don’t like saying your name.”
“Liar. Should I test you?”
“Sorry, what happened to lunch?”
His hands move down to my hips. “I changed my mind. I’m not hungry.”
“Convenient.”
“Not really.” He lifts me up suddenly, putting me down onto a workbench. I yelp in surprise, then lean back against the wall, my heart racing. He stares at me with a shocking need. “I want something much better now.”
“You keep your hands off me when we’re alone in bed together, but you can’t help yourself when we’re in the middle of my half-built shop? You realize this is a work hazard, right?”
“Tell me to stop.” He leans forward, breathing me in.
“Will you stop?”
“No.”
Then he kisses me. I kiss him back, unable to help myself. As much as I know it will complicate things, he feels good damn good, and I want him too. It’s my stupid horny brain screaming at me to make very bad decisions, which I keep doing, over and over again.
I sink into his kiss. I taste him, whimper gently, let him sit me up and pull my shirt off. That’s probably a bad idea—Roger and the guys could come back at any moment—but then I remember he gave the crewtwo hoursfor lunch.
Bastard planned this.
