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“The part in which you mean it, babe.” He grins lopsidedly. Don’t look at the dimple. Don’t look at the dimple. Don’t look at the… Oh, the dimple.
“Shall I try again? Don’t. Touch. Me,” I say, punctuating each word, making sure they’re perfectly clear.
He presses his hips against mine harder and my body betrays my words as my clit throbs. Slowly, he pushes one of his legs between mine, and I bite down on my bottom lip.
“Oh, that part. Still not believing you.” He releases one of my wrists and dives his hand into my hair. “It came to my attention during dinner that you’re rather mouthy.”
“I’m an independent woman. Being a sarcastic, mouthy bitch is an occupational hazard.”
His laugh is low, and the way it shakes his body makes his thigh rub against my core. I bite my lip again. Holy crap.
“Ah, yes. The independent woman.” Tyler drops his face and brushes a kiss against my jaw. “Vibrator and all.”
My cheeks flush. Why, oh why, did I have to mention the vibrator?
He kisses his way down my jaw, his fingers flexing at both my wrist and the back of my head.
“Tyler, get the fuck off of me.” Before I spontaneously combust because it’s getting damn hot out here.
“Mouthy,” he whispers.
He presses his lips to mine before I can do anything about it, and the action takes me totally by surprise. I gasp, opening my mouth, and he takes his opportunity. His tongue dives into my mouth and flicks against mine.
Against my better judgment, I kiss him back. It’s impossible not to when I’m pinned beneath him and he’s dominating my mouth so entirely. His thigh pressed against me is pushing the seam of my jeans against my clit, and like he knows, he shifts his leg.
He draws his tongue out of my mouth and kisses me normally with an odd mixture of force and softness. His lips are soft but his kiss is hard, and it makes for a heady combination that affects way more than just my fucking head.
“So it is possible to shut you up,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of my lips.
I drop my free hand from his shirt. “It’s possible, yes, but you won’t like what happens if you try it again.”
Tyler pulls back and cups my jaw. “Next time I try and shut you up, it won’t be with my mouth. It’ll be with my cock.”
He releases me as suddenly as he grabbed me. A smug grin spreads across his handsome face as he walks backward and pulls some keys from his pocket. My heart pounds threateningly in my chest, and everywhere he touched me, I’m tingling.
Tingling with excitement, loss, wanting, I don’t know.
“Still don’t want me to touch you?” he calls just before he climbs into his Mercedes.
I’m not going to justify that with a response. Likely because I’ll say the wrong thing, because right now, I very much want him to touch me.
I get into my own car and pull away, going in the opposite direction of him. Dining downtown means I’m only minutes from my apartment. Meaning there’s only minutes of feeling that aching sensation in my lower stomach and my core before I can get rid of it.
I park and take the elevator upstairs. As I suspected, Angus stares at me angrily when I open the door. He jumps from the table and goes to sit by his food bowl with a loud meow.
“All right, all right.” I slam the door, dump my purse, and grab him some biscuits. He meows again when I dump a load in his bowl. “Oh, fuck off, cat. I forgot to go to the store.”
He turns his back on me.
Now if only it were that easy to get Tyler away from me.
Cake. There is cake everywhere. Every-fucking-where. Normal cake. Chocolate cake. Cheesecake. Red velvet cake. Ooh, Red velvet cake…
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. We are in a bakery, after all, but just the sight of all the cake is making me feel a little sick. I haven’t tasted a thing yet, but I’d bet I’ll be ready to vomit pretty damn soon if the platter in front of me is anything to go by.
I eye it warily, and Dayton nudges me. “It’s just cake.”
“It’s a lot of cake. I mean, how many different types of cake are there?”
