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What is this game she’s playing? And why is it affecting me? It’s childish, and ridiculous, and I want to laugh. I also want her to admit she noticed me, that she’s also thinking about how our bodies fit together a moment ago.
How I could lift her tiny wrist, hold it against the cooler as I kiss her, as I grope her through her clothes. As I fuck her.
Shit. Dropping her arm, turning on my heel, I march back to my office.
Maybe I should leave work early today.
***
I’m heading out, hands in my pockets, head down, when I see her
walking determinedly toward me. She’s like a slender, ginger hurricane, and I have to resist the urge to move out of her way. I mean, she’s seen me. She’s looking right at me as she approaches.
Then she swerves at the last moment, walking past me. “At last,” she murmurs as she does.
I frown. “At last, what?” I call after her, zeroing in on her ass.
Her heart-shaped ass.
Shit.
She stops and turns. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed you.”
I chuckle. “Ah-huh. Next time you want me to believe that, crash into me like I did with you earlier.”
“That’s because you never notice me,” she says quietly, and my grin falls.
“What do you mean?”
“Just that.” She smiles. “But that’s fine, because now I don’t notice you either.” She lifts two fingers. “Twice today.”
With a little laugh, she turns away and sways down the corridor.
What was that about? Caught between concern and laughter, I continue on my way out.
But I don’t laugh, because I have noticed her. I do notice her. More and more.
And that’s the problem.
***
I take a long walk and then eat a Lean Cuisine dinner in front of the TV, trying to ignore the images dancing in front of my eyes, making my blood run hot under my skin and my dick hard.
Riddick. My body hums every time I remember those gray eyes, that wide mouth, that strong body so clearly defined under the T-shirt and tights.
And then I see Brylee, her copper curls loose, those ruby lips parting as I kiss her, and shit, something’s definitely wrong with me these days.
I thought I had control over this. I have everything in my life scheduled: work, exercise, walking, reading. Not leaving time to wonder what else is there.
But what if I took Riddick up on his offer? A quick fuck to scratch that itch. Guys are less complicated. They don’t expect long-term relationships and eternal vows of love.
I couldn’t do that with Brylee. Wouldn’t consider it.
And fuck, why am I considering either of them? Neither, that’s what I told Riddick. That’s right. I really shouldn’t entertain thoughts of him, or her, in my bed. Under me. Rubbing against me. Kissing and—
Oh shit. Leaning back on the sofa, I cup my hard-on through my pants and can’t help the moan rolling from my lips. It’s been too long. This is driving me insane.
God, Brylee. I thought she was pretty before, but it’s even worse now that I have a tactile memory of her body, the way her curves fit to my body, the way her pert ass fit against my dick, her smell, the feathery touch of her hair on my face.
