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“I’ve had offers.”
Fucking asshole. I pull away from him, shoving at his stomach.
He grabs me and pulls me back into him. “Get the fuck back here.”
“You’re a prize dick, Tyler Stone. Do you know that?”
“I have a prize dick, babe.” He chuckles. “But yes. It’s been mentioned to me once or twice over the last several years.”
“Really? I can’t imagine why.”
He flips me up onto his stomach. I flatten my forearms against the bed on either side of his head and stare down at him. My hair falls around his face in a blond curtain that shuts us off from the rest of the room.
He slowly runs his hands down my back, sliding them over the curve of my ass and back up. “Talk to me.”
“Would you really have asked someone else to go with you to the party?”
The vulnerable hint in my voice knocks us both off guard. Me because the hint of hurt over that idea was supposed to stay hidden. Him because he’s never heard me be anything other than mouthy and sarcastic.
“No, baby girl. No.” He shakes his head slowly. “I would have gone alone and left hours early because it’d be bloody boring without your mouthy arse there.”
I smile. “Really?”
He nods. “You said you needed to think. You’ve had two days. Will you put me out my misery now? If I’m going alone, I’m gonna need to update Candy Crush.”
I flick my wrist and slap the side of his head. “Bastard.”
He grins.
“I was actually trying to call you before you stormed in and nailed me against my wall.” My lips twist wryly.
He snorts. “One way to put it. Do I get to be a smug bastard at the weekend then?”
“Why would you be smug?”
“Answer the question.”
“Okay, okay. Yes. I’ll go with you.”
“Good choice.” He tilts his head up and kisses me softly. “And I’ll be smug because I know I’ll be the one taking you home to fuck you, not some knob who doesn’t deserve you.”
Knob. “I love your British words. They’re so adorable.”
“I think ‘taking you home to fuck you’ is pretty universal.”
I smack his head again. “I’m talking about knob. It’s such a great word.”
“And it sounds fucking hilarious with your accent.” He laughs, flipping me onto my back. He leans over me, his body hard against mine.
It’s not all that’s hard.
He kisses my jaw, one of his hands creeping from my back around to my breast. He cups it beneath my bra, his thumb finding my nipple.
“Really?” I breathe, my body responding to him easily.
“I have a date—and with a woman who doesn’t sleep with a guy more than once, doesn’t date, and doesn’t cuddle, no less. I need to celebrate. More specifically, my cock needs to celebrate with your pussy. You down with that?”
I bring my legs up, sinking my fingers into his hair. “I’d hate to be a party pooper.”
