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“I…because you’re hot,” I squeaked.
His hold on my neck loosened but didn’t go away.
“What?” he asked, as if he was surprised by my honesty.
“You’re hot!” I repeated, finding strength from somewhere deep inside of me.
Now I was getting angry.
He’d pulled me into an alley because he didn’t like me looking at him?
And how the hell had he even seen me, anyway? There’d been lights, dammit!
“You stared at me because you were attracted to me,” he murmured. “For that long?”
I sighed. “I thought you couldn’t see me.”
The truth will set you free.
At least, I thought it would.
He didn’t let go at all.
And, inwardly, I was kind of excited about that.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Why would you think that?” he murmured, the vibration of his chest making me feel all warm inside.
“Because there were lights!” I cried. “Above your head. Every time you’d look up, you’d squint.”
He chuckled. “That’s because I was trying to read the ticker on the television above your head.”
I deflated. “Oh.”
“Oh,” he agreed, twisting me around then, and forcing me to back up.
His hand fell away from my throat, and I wouldn’t admit how sad I was about that.
I wouldn’t admit, either, that I’d liked our previous position.
But this new one definitely had possibilities.
“I saw you, you know,” I murmured as I looked at his head.
He tilted that sexy head—I never knew heads were sexy until I’d met him—and narrowed his eyes.
“Are you really that naïve?” he wondered.
I licked my lips. “What?”
My confusion wasn’t feigned, and he understood.
“The only reason you saw me, darling, is because I wanted you to see me,” he replied silkily.
I felt my insides seize.
He wanted me to see him.
Had he not wanted me to see him, then I wouldn’t have?
What?
“What?” I asked.
He used just the tip of his pointer finger and traced my jaw. “I wanted you to see me.”
“In the bar?” I asked, voice higher than it should’ve been.
“No,” he answered. “Outside. When you saw me ditch the wig.”
I had about a billion questions on the tip of my tongue.
One of which was: why were you wearing a wig?
But before I could ask, he moved in close, forcing me to move even further backwards.
“Are you scared?” he asked.
Was I scared to be in a dark alley with a dark, demanding, captivating stranger?
Yes.
Was I going to tell him that I was scared?
No.
Because I didn’t want him to leave.
I didn’t want him to give me any personal space.
I wanted him.
I wanted him bad enough to make a really stupid decision.
“No,” I whispered, sounding about as certain about my answer as someone about to jump out of a plane for the first time.
He smiled at my lie. “Is that right?”
I licked my lips, and he zeroed in on my mouth.
The dark alley, paired with the harsh overhead light above the outside door we were propped up next to, was making me confused.
The shadows and the blinding light, as well as the way he was staring at me, along with the long run I’d just finished, was making my poor brain think too hard.
“Are you gonna stare at something besides my mouth?” he asked. “Because if it goes on much longer, I’m going to think you want me to use it on you.”
I swallowed hard.
But by God, my gaze did not leave his mouth.
“Fuck, baby, but you do know how to make me want.”
I did?
“I do?” I asked.
He moved in close. “Last chance.”
“Last chance for what?” I murmured.
My damn eyes were still pinned to those lips.
They curved up at the corners. Just the minutest of amounts. But it was there.
He’d smiled.
Then his mouth descended onto mine.
And holy. Shit.
He could kiss.
With my breathing ragged and hands fisted in his shirt, he pulled back and stared.
“That answer your question?” he asked.
“What question?”
I was really confused.
“On whether or not I would act on those sex vibes you were casting off,” he answered.
Oh.
“I’m still confused,” I said.
His lips once again turned up.
Then he was moving.
Seconds later I was facing the grimy wall in the alley, and he was pushing his hand up my sweaty shirt.
My breathing went from ‘okay, you can do this’ to ‘no, you can’t’ in about point three seconds.
He didn’t balk at the sweat.
And I didn’t balk at the way he was now touching me so inappropriately in the middle of a freakin’ alley with my body pressed against a dirty alley wall.
“Seriously, last chance,” he said.
Last chance.
No.
I wasn’t going to say a word, because I was worried he might stop.
Moving my hands to the wall to provide some support, I looked at him over my shoulder.
The way the shadows were, I could only make out one half of his face. But that half was definitely telling me that what we were doing was going to happen. And I wasn’t going to be the one to stop it.
