Wet and Reckless (Private Pleasures 4)

Her face hovered inches from his, glowing from the moonlight and a sheen of perspiration that made him eager for the sweaty slap of their bodies when he finally started fucking her for real. For now, he’d content himself with the unsteady breaths coming out of her as she stared him down, trying to win this minor standoff they were engaged in.

She didn’t have a prayer. Not with his fingers parked at the threshold of her very wet, very willing pussy. He flexed them, feeling huge and slightly brutal against her softness.

“West,” she gasped, and something satisfyingly helpless flickered in her eyes.

“Kiss me,” he repeated, knowing full well the demand originated from a not-so-noble place. Fair enough, because the same could be said for this whole seduction of hers. Except now that he’d drawn a line in the sand, he really wanted her lips on his. Not simply to win this battle of wills, but to win the privilege and intimacy of her mouth—a privilege and intimacy she obviously preferred to withhold, despite having no qualms about using him as a means to an orgasm and letting herself be used for the same.

Sorry, Reckless. You can’t just take my cock for a joyride. The rest of me comes with it.

He flexed his fingers again, rubbing around a little to torment them both. She groaned and rested her forehead against his. Her lips parted on a breathy, “Please.”

He tipped his head back an almost imperceptible degree to line his mouth up with hers. Following instinct more than reason, he sank his fingers into her hair and cupped his palm along the back of her head. Questionable tactics, because her “please” could mean a number of things, including, “Please let me have my way.” His hold said no. If she wanted to get off, they’d do this his way, and apparently his way involved kissing.

One small flex of his wrist brought her mouth close enough he could speak against her lips. “Kiss me.”

She sank her teeth into his lower lip. Not hard enough to hurt, but utterly defiant. The tiny abuse set fire to his blood, as did the sensation of her cinnamon-flavored breath gliding over his lip. But the move also woke the rational part of his brain that had fallen dormant as soon as he’d seen her sitting on a barstool at Rawley’s.

This isn’t a seduction. This is Roxy trying to prove something the only way she thinks she can. If you give a damn about either of you, you won’t engage.

The truth of that rained down on him like a cold shower. He couldn’t do this. Roxy might believe people thrived on throwing caution to the wind, but he knew better. Unfortunately, being the responsible one flat-out sucked sometimes.

As if she sensed the shift in him, she trailed her lips along his jaw and dropped a hand from the headrest to his chest. Every part of him from the neck down voted to toss his cock-blocking conscience into a shallow grave and bury it, but his brain vetoed. Rules existed in his world. Rules and boundaries. Right and wrong. Chucking them for a few mind-numbing minutes inside a woman with precious few straight a

nswers and a tendency to end up on the wrong side of the law was all kinds of stupid. On top of that was the very real risk one night with Roxy wouldn’t suffice. Instead of freeing him from the clutch of lust he’d been in since day one, it would just tighten the grip, and regardless of what she said about sticking around, the woman in his arms had “gone” written all over her.

Calling her on it right now meant he wouldn’t have to worry about withstanding her charms for the duration of her stay. After she tore his balls off and stomped on them, she’d never look his way again.

Only the worst kind of masochist would allow himself to end up in such a no-win situation, but he had, and there was only one thing to do about it. Resigned, he eased his hand out of her shorts. It took her a moment to process that, and then she pulled back and looked at him. He steeled himself against the slow flutter of lashes over big, glazed eyes.

When they focused on him, he said, “Go inside.”

“Huh?”

“Go inside, Reckless. Now.” He swatted her backside to get her moving before his willpower gave out.

“We’re doing fine right here, don’t you think?”

She assumed he planned to come in with her, but she still looked less than sold on the suggestion. A persuasive smile snuck around the corner of her mouth—the mouth she refused to kiss him with—but he saw indecision in the slant of her brows. She shied away from anything too personal, including sharing a kiss…or sharing his bed. The front seat of his truck would keep things impulsive. Easier.

But he wasn’t quite that easy. “Inside.”

She let out a breath and ducked his gaze. “Okaaay.”

Wow. Score a win for him, he thought as she crawled off his lap and opened the passenger door. She did have some ability to compromise. Too bad he couldn’t reward her for it. When she climbed out, he started the truck.

Her mouth dropped open and then snapped shut. “You’re not coming?”

“Can’t, Reckless. You’ll just break my heart.”

For a long moment, she stared at him. Then she wrapped her arms around herself. “You don’t have a heart.”

Yeah, he was an asshole. She wouldn’t reach for him again in this lifetime. So be it. He could live with being considered a heartless asshole. He wasn’t as confident about being a temporary port in Roxy’s storm.

“Are you leaving on account of the waitress?”

The question, coupled with the glare in her narrowed eyes, set another fire low in his gut. Jealousy looked good on her, at least when directed his way. Especially since, if he was being honest, he’d deliberately courted it tonight. But taking his pent-up craving for Roxy and trying to satisfy it with another woman held no appeal. Even he wasn’t that big an asshole. “No.” He put the truck in gear.

“Then I don’t understand. Oh, wait”—the jealous outrage cooled to a guarded expression he didn’t like on her normally open face—“maybe I do. There’s an old saying. You bed down with dogs, you get up with fleas. What’s the matter, West?” She cocked her head. “Afraid you’re going to catch fleas?”