As she digs her fingertips into my pecs, pokes into my stomach, finds my bellybutton through the fabric and dips her forefinger into the small dent, I do something I haven’t done in years.
I think unsexy thoughts. Just like when I was a fucking teenager, struggling not to shoot my load when a girl I liked crossed my path. When I had no control over my body.
Like now.
Her fingers continue their journey south and my breath grows shallow as they approach the bulge of my erection. Will she touch it? Touch my cock that’s throbbing, trapped in the thick denim? The barbells on either side of the crown drag against the fabric, sending small jolts of pleasure down my spine.
She stops, an uncertain look crossing her face, and I bite back a groan of disappointment.
Fuck. This isn’t about me, dammit.
She doesn’t move away, though, her hand a warm weight on my stomach. “Riot…”
“Hmm?”
“Not sure what I’m doing.”
“Touching me?”
“Not that. I mean…” Her gaze is dark, thoughtful. “How will this help me? Touching you like this?”
“It’s a start.”
“A start to what?”
“What do you think?” I wag my brows at her, and she laughs softly, glancing away.
Score.
Then her hand glides back up to my pecs, over my shoulder, down my arm. “Love your tats. They’re flames, aren’t they?”
Shit. “Yeah.”
“Pretty.” But she says nothing more.
Of course she doesn’t, idiot. She has no clue what the flames mean. You think you’re still in the underworld with the shadows of men, blood, and death, but you’re not. You left. And by leaving you caused more death and more misery.
You were supposed to die. Not Markus. Fix that now, if you fucking can.
“Is Riot your real name?”
Okay, this isn’t going the way I thought it would. Need to put this conversation back on track.
“Something wrong with my name, Pax?”
She shakes her head, smiles.
“Too many questions. You asked for one hour. You’re wasting it.” I prop myself up on my elbows, and she stills. “Fewer questions, more touching.”
“And if I don’t want to touch you?”
“Don’t you?” I smirk at her, and she lifts her chin, challenging.
Damn, I like that about her. Even terrified she won’t give up, she won’t let me do whatever I wish. I like it a bit too much.
Hot.
Suddenly she’s scooting away, climbing off the bed.