He steps closer, crowding me as he presses his palms against the counter on either side of my hips.
“Rod.”
Any other man and I’d run terrified. I no longer allow anyone to cage me. But it’s different with him. No part of me feels the urge to flee. Instead, my nipples tighten into sensitive peaks.
What’s going on with me?
He leans into me, leaving only a couple of inches between us. God, the man smells so good. “Rod, what?” he asks.
I’m stumped.
He pulls back and with his eyes locked onto mine, he reaches out and brushes his knuckles against my protruding nipples.
I swallow a moan.
Jesus Christ.
“I like this top on you, Dom,” he says, so low it comes out as soft as a whisper.
“I— I—”
“I’m listening.” His seductive smile is disarming. I can’t even remember what I was going to say. “Those are fucking gorgeous,” he says before lowering his eyes to my nipples.
“I—”
“You what?” he challenges.
This time he strokes the tip of my peaks with his middle fingers in a slow circle. His tempo is agonizing.
“Good Lord,” I grunt, my eyes fixed on his hands.
“And they feel fucking amazing.”
I’m completely at a disadvantage here. Grasping at straws, I go for a low blow.
“Is your game off? You didn’t score tonight? That’s why you’re here?”
He doesn’t answer immediately.
The silence is killing me.
When he pinches my nipples, I nearly scream.
“You’re wrong. I turned down a few offers. Because I’d rather be here… with you.”
“Oh.”
“Wanna know why?” His face is a raw mix of tenderness and wickedness. How is that even possible?
“Why?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Dom. And not as my best friend. It’s like your soft, warm mouth put a spell on me. Frankly, I didn’t get nearly enough last night.”
A relieved breath escapes my lips.
He wasn’t hunting for prey.
The thought sends a thrill through me and threatens to melt my body into a pool of heat. A warning voice rings an alarm bell.
