“I don’t remember that.”
No, she wouldn’t. It had been where Peter held court. It must have been a week or two after he got to her, because it was the first time he’d brought her out publicly and claimed her for himself. She stood at his side, a foot or so behind him, her hands clasped in front of her, her head bowed. “You had on a hideous white dress that covered you from neck to wrists and looked like it had to be held for you to manage to walk.” Probably so she couldn’t run away, I think darkly.
“I hated that dress,” Tink murmurs, looking at me like she’s never seen me before. She opens her mouth and seems to reconsider whatever she was about to say, because she closes it without continuing.
“Whatever you just thought—say it.”
Finally, she says, “If you were that affected by me then …” A line appears between her brows, but she’s not glaring at me, exactly. It almost seems like she’s pissed at herself. “I don’t look like that anymore.”
Now it’s my turn to blink. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m fat.” She motions at her body as if I haven’t spent far too many hours fantasizing about exploring every inch of her.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “What’s your point?”
“I wasn’t then. If you wanted me then—”
Realization washes over me, and I might laugh if I didn’t think she’d lob her glass right at my head for doing it. “I want you. That’s the sum of it. You were gorgeous when we met, and you’re gorgeous now.” I almost don’t continue, but she still has the tiniest bit of vulnerability lingering around the edges. “You’re sexier now. You’ve …” I consider how to put it into words. “You know who you are now. That confidence, that attitude, the drive. It’s fucking devastating.”
I step closer and grip her hips, ignoring her narrowed eyes. “That might sound like I want you despite the package, but you are the package, Tink. If you think I haven’t jacked myself thinking about your ass, your thighs, your tits, you, then you’re out of your damn mind.”
She wets her lips. “You know, most dudes would have stopped with telling me how badass I am. They wouldn’t have gone into all the bits of me they’ve jacked themselves to.”
“You know I’m not most guys, beautiful girl.” I want to strip her down and show her exactly how much I want to worship every inch of her, but there are still the terms to be met. Fuck, I hate when I paint myself into a corner, no matter how vital it was to draw that line in the sand for us.
“That’s the damn truth.” She grabs the front of my shirt, and I’m caught off guard enough that I allow her to tow me down to her mouth. The kiss surprises the hell out of me, but my shock only lasts a beat before I take control.
I tighten my grip on her waist and lift her onto the counter. She immediately opens her thighs to me, and I close the remaining distance between us. We’re not close enough. We won’t be close enough until my cock is sheathed in her to the hilt. But it’s still so fucking good. Tink is soft and strong, and it feels like she was made just for me.
I dig my fingers into her silky hair and tilt her head back so I can get better access to her mouth. She tastes of vodka and the sharp bite of citrus, and I drink her down. This woman kills me.
She runs her hands up my chest and fists them in my shirt as if trying to keep from wandering. Fuck that. I break the kiss long enough to lean back and yank my shirt off, and then I take her hands and press them to my bare chest. “Touch me.”
“I’m going to do more than touch you.” She pushes me back a step, and I let her.
Then Tink slides off the counter and sinks gracefully to her knees.
Chapter 16
Tink
Now that I’m on my knees, the doubt falls away. This is the right course, the only course. Hook stares down at me with those dark, dark eyes. His hair is tangled from my fingers running through it, and his piercing glints against the black of his beard. He starts to say something, but cuts himself off before he gets the first word out.
Finally, he steps back and keeps moving back, holding my gaze, until he reaches the bed and sits carefully on the mattress. I wait for his Dom persona to flicker over him, for the arrogant smile to appear, for the swagger.
Instead his voice is hoarse as he beckons me forward by crooking a single finger. “Crawl.”
If I’d planned this better, I’d be crawling to him naked instead of in jeans and a crop top. No time to think about that now. I move slowly, sinuously, giving him a show. The cool wood floors bite into my palms and knees, but the faint ache only heightens the desire.