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He arches a brow. “Were you, Angel?”
“I swear,” I repeat, backing up as he advances through my threshold and shuts the door.
He makes a tsking sound. “Leaving the scene of an accident is a crime, Taylor.”
“Are you going to turn me in?” I hope my voice sounds more flirtatious than dry.
We both know he’s not going to call the police.
He’s mafia. They handle their problems personally. Usually with violence, not that I’ve ever seen that from him.
His lips quirk. “Nah, I’m not here to turn you in. I’m here to give you a spanking.”
I blink, trying to figure out if he means metaphorically or literally.
For some reason, my body takes him at his word and my ass clenches. I grow hot and tingly everywhere. A slow pulse starts up between my legs.
As if he somehow realizes the effect of his words on me, his smirk grows. He advances another step, invading my personal space. His hand settles lightly on my waist. I have to work to lift my eyes and meet his gaze.
Very gently, without insisting, he tugs me forward until my body is flush against his. He brings a knuckle under my chin and lifts my face even more. “Are you ready for your punishment?”
I attempt to swallow and fail. “M-my insurance will cover it.”
His grin widens. He has one dimple on his left that melts my panties. “I saw your car out there, angel, and I see the size of your apartment. I’m guessing you can’t afford the insurance hike.”
My heartbeat is wild and irregular. I think I know where he’s going with this and I’m not sure I mind.
“What are you suggesting?” I attempt to keep the wobble out of my voice.
“I’m not suggesting anything.” His hand drifts from my waist southward. His tone holds notes of black velvet and Scotch. “I’m here to take you to task for leaving without making things right.” His palm lightly molds around the curve of my ass. “And then we’re going to talk about how you’re going to square things up with me.” My core clenches.
His fingers close and he squeezes my ass.
“Do I have a choice here?”
Why does my voice sound so husky?
“Do you want a choice?”
I stare up at him, trying to decode that reply. It’s hard when he’s kneading and massaging my butt. I’m not wearing panties under the pajama shorts, and my own arousal is leaking onto my thighs.
“Or is it better to pretend you don’t?” He shifts his knuckles from under my chin to brushing across my cheek.
I’m still not sure what he means. But he said pretend. So that means I do actually have a choice. Right?
“I’ve seen you watching the scenes at Sins. You say it’s not for you, but your expression tells me something different.”
I’m trembling now. Not from fear.
From anticipation.
Arousal.
The possibility of something dark and dirty happening between us.
I’m also stunned to hear he’s watched me. Especially considering he always has a gorgeous woman on his arm.
“What about your girlfriend?” I ask.
