He just gives me a measured nod again and glances down at my hand held out for my cell phone before disregarding it and looking back at me with his lips pursed in a lopsided smirk. He’s not giving in until I keep talking. And that’s fine. I can talk until the fricking cows come home, but he’s making it difficult the way he keeps getting closer and closer, the space between us dwindling, the air around us feeling as if it’s becoming scarce.
Fuck a duck. Get a grip, Had. Chastity belt, chastity belt, I repeat to myself, trying to infuse some of my own humor into the situation to calm the nerves I never get but that are suddenly running rampant.
“It’s okay. I get it,” I say with a nod, and I’m not quite sure if I’m talking to myself about why I’m suddenly on edge or to Becks about the need for rules. I breathe out a sigh, readjusting my thought process off of him. Onto him. And damn if my dirty mind doesn’t conjure up images of me on him. Riding him. Jesus, I need to get my head back into this thing—out of the gutter. I try to shake those thoughts. My head clears, but my thighs clench as his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, completely oblivious to my thoughts.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs, letting me struggle with my response. He reaches out, and I think he’s going to give me my phone and put me out of the unfamiliar tongue-tied misery I’m in, but no such luck.
His finger grazes my cheek as he pulls a strand of hair off my face. My breath hitches and my pulse races, but I bat his hand away, his touch on my skin giving me just the wake-up call I need. “I have rules of my own, you know….” I mean to sound like a petulant child, but the words come out in a breathy exhale.
That knowing smirk of his grows even wider. Irks me more than it should, because I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. But my libido sure as hell does.
“You do, do you?”
Mr. I-always-talk-a-lot is now being stingy with words? I can beat him at this game, no problem. “Yep.”
“Yep? That’s all you’re going to give me?” He chuckles as he takes the final step to close the distance, reaching up to raise his sunglasses to the top of his head. His aqua eyes blink from the sun for a moment before finding mine at the same time my breasts brush against the firmness of his chest.
And damn. What was I going to say? I can’t remember because I feel his breath feather over my lips, and a chill breaks out over my skin despite the warm weather. “Yep?” he taunts again, drawing the word out in a long breath, and for a minute, I’m relieved to know that he is just as affected as I am.
“Mm-hmm.” It’s all I can manage, desire increasing with each passing second.
“And they are?” he prompts as he leans in closer, our connection even stronger now.
“Lots of them,” I say in a whoosh of air, my mind not comprehending my lack of wit because everything I am concentrating on seems to be centered around the apex of my thighs. Ache. Need. Desire.
He does that closemouthed laugh again. “I dare you to name one right now.” His breath feathers over my lips, the warmth of it a tantalizing taunt to my unsated need. I know he asked me a question, but hell if my synapses are firing efficiently right now. Thoughts of that mouth of his on me, tasting me, obliterate all coherent thoughts. He leans in closer, my breath unsteady now and my eyes drifting closed in anticipation of his kiss.
A kiss I don’t want.
Do want.
Just give it to me, Becks.
“Do you want something, Had?” he murmurs, his lips so close, I can feel their movement as he talks.
Every nerve in my body is attuned to him: his body pressed against mine, his scent, his energy. I give my second “Mm-hmm” in a matter of minutes and mentally chastise myself, tell myself to quit being so pathetic. Guys have always been a dime a dozen to me … so why does Becks seem like that million-dollar check I can’t wait to cash?
“Gonna have to do better than that in order to get what you want.” His taunting tone calls to me, breaks through my mental haze, and ignites the desire that’s already smoldering.
“No strings,” I whisper, hoping that now that I’ve said it, I can get a taste of him—get what I want—but the minute I say it, the heat of his body is gone. My eyes flash open, lips fall apart. What the …?
“Nice try, City, but I’m already well aware of that rule,” Becks says as he lowers his sunglasses back down over his eyes with one hand while the other places my phone in my hand. He takes a few steps away from me, smirk still owning his mouth, but I can see his arousal as crystal clear as the sky above me. And hell if he hasn’t flipped me on like a fucking switch and is leaving me high and dry without giving me the electricity needed to light me up.
I go to say his name, mouth opening and closing a few times before I just give up and shut it.
We stare at each other a moment longer, my sexual frustration obvious and his point made with a victorious grin before he nods at me. “Good luck with your client tonight,” he says, and then disappears around the driver’s side of the car. I step over to the back of my car as I hear his engine rev before he pulls forward through the open spot in front of him and leaves.
And I stand there for a moment longer, my body amped up on adrenaline and my desire for him a mixture of necessity and damnation.
Well played, Daniels. Well played.
Hell, if strings aren’t looking pretty damn appealing right now. I want to tie him up, get my fill of him, and then leave him bound up with need like he just did to me.