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My question is met with the pounding music around us.
“A thousand?” My voice breaks at the end.
“I don’t expect someone who orders strawberry daiquiris to understand.”
I bat my lashes. “You know, maybe if you spent less time watching me and more time actively finding a girlfriend, you wouldn’t be chronically single and working eighty hours a week to fill the empty void of your existence.”
His frown reveals far too much. “Last time I checked, both of us were single.”
“I’m the one who dated a toxic, controlling man for too many years. What’s your excuse?”
I take his blank expression as a challenge.
“Are you unable to make a woman come?” I tease.
His eyes narrow into two slits.
“Maybe you’re a one-minute man?”
His deep breath says more than any words can.
“They have coaches and medicine for that kind of thing, so no need to have it stop you from finding love.”
Julian flips the script on me as he places his hand on my hip and squeezes. Before I have a chance to comment, his palm travels up the side of my body, brushing across my rib cage.
I stop breathing as his hand wraps around the back of my neck. The firm way he holds me isn’t uncomfortable, but I squirm in place regardless.
“What are you doing?” I push against his chest to no avail.
His fingers tense, applying the smallest amount of pressureagainst my pulse point as he leans in and whispers in my ear, “Just because I’m selective about who I date doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to fuck.”
“Am I supposed to take your word for it?”
His fingers squeeze harder, cutting off my airflow for a second. “Would you rather I demonstrate?”
“Are you suggesting I have sex with you?”
“Absolutely not. Sex with you would be…”
Every inch of my body tingles at the snapshot of him hovering above me, his heated gaze burning into me right as his mouth comes closer to mine—
I shake my head, and he frowns. “No need to look so horrified by the idea.”
“Nauseated is more like it.”
His thumb traces over my racing pulse point. “Mentirosa.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He glares at my lips with every ounce of hate he can muster. “I still remember the time when you begged me to kiss you.”
Julian and I say a lot of messed-up things to each other, but bringing up that topic feels like the lowest of lows, and frankly, he should know better.
I rip myself free from his hold. “I also begged Oliver to do the same, so don’t let it get to your head. And honestly, he was much better at it anyway.”
My words hit their mark, obliterating whatever was brewing between us.
Mentirosa:Liar.
