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“Aha.”
As I teased it, he fell to his back once more, hands raised. “Guilty as charged.”
I wiggled my shoulders in a saucy preen. “Okay, hot shot. What am I thinking now?”
His half-grin became a quiet smirk. “Oh, it is easy this time.”
“That so?”
“Hmmm. Yes.”
The thick heat in his gaze recaptured my attention—in my mind and my pussy. “Oh, great mind reader Shiraz, please impart me with your wisdom, then.”
He rolled to his side, then pulled me down to mine. When we fully faced each other. his stare turned to azure smoke. “That you…liked having to obey my orders tonight.”
A smile grew across my lips. “Well. You may be a mind reader after all.”
“That is not all of it.”
I pressed closer to him. “Interested. Go on.”
His stare turned even darker. “You are definitely hoping more reward is coming for it.”
He emphasized “reward” with a buck of his hips that, tried by any other guy, might have been dorky. But with the way this man could roll those hips with that erection, my scoffing laugh became an aroused sigh. Damn. His cock was like a baton against my thigh. I’d taken baton once. I was damn good at it.
I rubbed light fingers at the base of his…stick. “Mr. Cimarron?”
He grunted. Let out a shaky breath. But growled with force, “Yes, Miss Fava?”
“You’re one cocky sonofabitch.”
“So I have been…informed.” He husked out the last of it, as I fondled the two globes in his sac.
“I bet you’ll be insufferable now, having given your goods for a girl and all.”
He unleashed a growl—a whole snarl, actually—while rearing up and over, flattening me to my back. My responding squeal was stolen by his hard punch of a kiss. “My goods, hmmm? I suppose that will do.” He did that lush hip roll again, giving my other thigh a workout with his impressive length. There was a slick of moisture this time, making my stare go wide. He really was ready to go again.
Maybe I’d been mistaken, and this wasn’t lightning strike hell.
It was heaven, with a lover missing nothing except angel’s wings.
Point proven the very next moment, with the new light in his gaze and the measured concentration in his strokes to my hair. To be honest, the intensity almost scared me. This wasn’t I’m-going-to-fuck-you-raw focus. This was I-want-to-see-into-you attention.
“What?” I valiantly went for levity, anyway. “You don’t like ‘the goods’? But they are good, gorgeous.” Bitten lip. Cutie-flirty smile. “Very, very good.”
No change in his face. But no change to his cock, either, which kept stirring fond baton lesson memories. A good sign that maybe he could be distracted…
“There is not a single man back in LA who wants to do this with you regularly?”
Okay. Scratch the “good sign”. But was it a bad sign? That he was clearly, genuinely puzzled by why I didn’t have a steady someone back home? That he wanted to know more about the intricacies of my life?
Except that was what they were. Intricacies. Cracks. The telltale signs of why I wasn’t “Miss Right” for anyone. Why I should just stay in his lane of “Miss Right Now”, period.
“Unnnhhh.” I flopped both arms to the pillow, crisscrossing wrists over my head. “That’s a really complicated question.”
Translation: back off now and save us both the trouble.
But if I’d learned anything about the man in the last two days, it was how he and “back off” weren’t on speaking terms. Like, ever.
