“You’re leaving me no choice,” he growls, resuming his walk.
“You can’t do this!” I protest, less outraged than I should be.
He just chuckles.
“You’re here, ass in the air on my shoulder,” he reminds me of my submissive position.“That should be proof enough that I can.”
CHAPTER 6
ARÈS
The metal feels heavy in my hand as I lie beneath the sink, trying to tighten a bolt. My fingers grip the steel more firmly. I force myself to focus on the drainpipe, pushing away the image of Andrew, stretched out in my guest room wearing only one of my T-shirts and his boxer shorts.
Last night’s dance broke down dams inside me that I’m now clumsily trying to patch up. I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted a man before. And it’s wrong, because he’s vulnerable and above all, he’s not ready for someone like me. But that doesn’t stop my thoughts from wandering. I want to see more of that satin skin. I want to taste him on my tongue, feel the softness of his hair between my fingers.
“Fuck,” I growl at the drainpipe, as if it’s to blame for my chaotic mind.
“You need help?”
I sit up abruptly. My skull smacks hard against the cabinet, and a sharp pain radiates across my forehead. Damn drainpipe. No chance for a moment’s peace.
“You’re awake,” I say, stating the obvious.
My eyes land on perfectly sculpted calves. My gaze slowly travels upward, following the edge of my T-shirt that stops just above his knees, hiding the most captivating parts of his body. His hair falls in messy strands across his forehead. He’s adorable.
“Apparently. So, can I help you?” he repeats.
I shake my head and gesture to the counter.
“There’s coffee if you want some.”
He steps forward, standing just in front of me, legs apart. A proposition? Or just coincidence? He leans forward, and his manhood is right at face level. My body reacts instantly, a burning desire carving its way through me. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for... whatever he has planned. Mistake. A huge mistake. His scent hits me full on. He leans in more. If I move my head, I could...
But suddenly, he steps back, holding two cups. His eyebrows raise as he looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. I misread it. Andrew just wanted to reach the shelf, not me.
My body still trembles from his proximity. My fingers dig into the wooden floor. How can he have such an effect on me? With William, sex was incredible, but never has the tension been this overwhelming.
“Coffee?” he asks, waving the cups under my nose.
I nod and back away. We need distance. Immediately. Otherwise, I’m going to end up throwing him onto the kitchen table, and all my reasoning will shatter.
He fills the mugs while I stand and close the cabinet under the sink.
“Do we have...?” he starts hesitantly.
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish.
Uneasy, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, staring at his drink before handing me the other cup.
“Did we... sleep together last night?” he finally asks.
I bite my cheek. In what sense? What we did on the floor yesterday can’t really be called dancing. I started dancing with him only because the leering looks from the assholes around were driving me mad. But when he pressed his body against mine, my brain shut down. Still, I didn’t go all the way, even though every part of me wanted it. And every reason not to slowly fades away.
“No,” I say, amused by his uncertain expression.“You’d remember, trust me.”
“Good,” he replies, though he doesn’t seem to believe it.
A slight disappointment flashes across his face.
