Promiscuous (Tease 2)

"Then a little longer isn’t going to hurt, is it?"

"It's not like we haven’t had sex before," I protested. "And if things get…hard, I trust you to stop."

He shook his head. "Not tonight." He curved his hand around the back of my neck and kissed me. His lips felt amazing against mine. This was doing nothing to ease the need I had for him. "I'd love nothing more than to be inside you right now, Beth, but the next time I do that, its going to feel right."

I pulled away from him. Why did I feel rejected? Staring at him, I lifted my dress over my head and tossed it on the floor. He breathed in sharply as he took in my body. I reached behind my back and unclipped my bra, letting that, too, fall away.

"You may not want to have sex with me," I began, walking over to the bed, "but you can’t stop me from touching myself in front of you."

I had him, and he knew it. I could tell from the look of desire in his eyes and the way his jaw had tensed. Slowly, I peeled off my panties and kicked them aside. Kneeling on the bed with my legs parted, I began to touch my bare pussy.

"You like this?" I asked him, dipping my finger inside myself.

"You're not playing fair, Beth."

I let out a little moan as I rubbed my breasts, squeezing my nipples as I worked my finger in and out of my wet pussy. He moved toward me at a snail’s pace, his eyes not leaving mine. The effect my little performance was having on him was obvious by the large bulge in his pants.

I smiled as he lowered himself down to me. I won. Don’t mess with Beth.

But then he placed a soft kiss on my forehead and smiled at me.

“Goodnight, Beth,” he murmured, his eyes laughing at me.

My mouth dropped open. I watched him leave my room, closing the door behind him without so much as a glance back at me. I threw myself back on the bed, so angry. I snorted—angry at what? Finding the only guy in the world who refused to rush into sex with a rape victim?

How could I possibly stay angry at him? The answer was I couldn't.

Chapter Eighteen

Beth

A day without seeing Roman was like a day without oxygen: I struggled to survive. He’d had things to do, apparently, that didn’t involve me.

Studying myself in the mirror, I nodded with satisfaction. Let’s see him pass on my advances tonight. The intercom buzzed, and I raced to let him in. By the time he reached my door I was ready, my purse in hand and my feet slipping into my heels.

“You look stunning,” he mumbled, leaning over to kiss me.

I grinned. With no clue where we were headed, I’d thrown on a silk dress that hung just above the knee and a pair of strappy heels.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked as we walked to his car—if you could even call it a car. The sporty, black, metal contraption parked in my driveway was not his usual transportation, and it must have cost a fortune.

“Impressed?” he asked as he opened the door for me.

I shrugged. “You’re talking to one of the highest earners in the country last year. Material things don’t impress me.” I smirked.

He raised his eyebrows as he pushed the door shut. “So, what does impress you then, Beth?”

I thought for a moment. “A man who knows how to treat a woman. Someone who thinks before they act. Someone who thinks of others before they act.”

“That shouldn’t be something that impresses. That should be standard behavior.”

“Unfortunately, not all men see it that way.” I shrugged, determined not to put a damper on our night. “So, where did you get the car?”

He laughed. “Mine is being serviced. This belongs to a friend.”

“Nice friend,” I joked. “So, where is it we’re going?” I asked.

Roman smirked at me and shook his head. “Be patient. You’ll find out soon enough.”