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She stills in place finally, her chest heaving with her breath.
“Why are you here?”
“Like I said a minute ago, you have a problem, and I’m here to save the day.”
Her eyes narrow.
“That’s great. But would you like to enlighten me as to what that problem is and why you suddenly think you’re my hero?”
My stare drops to her lips. I resist the urge to kiss her, but it takes a hell of a lot of effort. What I can’t resist is the question that runs through my thoughts.
“Have you ever kissed anyone?”
She balks.
“Not that I would ever give you that information, but what does it have to do with you being in my apartment, claiming I have a problem that you can somehow help me solve?”
“You haven’t,” I guess.
“You don’t know that.” Her cheeks blush red, telling me I’ve guessed correctly.
“Maybe I just refuse to kiss you. Probably because you’re a dirtbag maniac who likes abducting women and running people off the road.”
I find it interesting that the question of her refusal to kiss me has distracted her from yelling at me to get out of her apartment.
“You can’t kiss a dirtbag maniac, but you can let one eat you out or stick his dick in your mouth?”
“It’s just —”
“Sex,” I say, finishing what she’s said to me before.
I grind against her again, and she whimpers, her previous anger at me lost.
“If it’s just sex,” I argue, trapping both her wrists in one hand, “then you won’t mind me lifting this shirt to see what you have underneath.”
I run a fingertip down Blue’s arm, watching her expression change the lower it travels. Her lips pull into a thin line when my fingertip hits her shoulder then continues down to trace the side of her body. She squirms when I pass her breast but bites her lip and attempts to jerk out of my hold when I move down the side of her rib cage.
Interesting. I didn’t know she’s ticklish.
Hooking my finger beneath the bottom hem of the cami, I cock a brow and give her the chance to tell me to stop.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she parts a set of perfectly shaped lips and says, “I have a question, and according to the terms of your game, you can’t remove my shirt until you answer it.”
I still in place and watch victory dance behind her violet eyes.
“What’s your question?”
How bad can it be? I’m sure she’ll demand more information about Brinley.
“What caused the scar beneath your right eye? The tiny one. And I want a detailed answer, so let me rephrase my question. What is the complete story behind the scar beneath your right eye? Who caused it, and if you say it was a fight, I want to know why you were fighting.”
You call yourself a man?
Stop crying…
I release her wrists then climb off the bed.
