So that was what this was.
He was asking me to date him.
And, God, I didn't think I would ever be ready for that again, that I could ever find room in my life for it.
But there was no denying that I wanted this. I wanted him.
"Hm," I said, pursing my lips, pretending to think it through even though every part of me was screaming yes. "You know, I think I might actually be able to put up with your moody ass for a while."
"Just a while, huh?" he asked, both hands sliding to sink into my ass, dragging my hips closer to him, settling me right over his lap, and I couldn't seem to resist the urge to let my hips do a little wiggle against him.
"Well, see, I have this one hang-up," I told him, watching as his eyes went serious. Maybe even, dare I think it, worried.
"What's that?"
"Well, I was always told that it is very important, no, imperative, to try before you buy. And... yeah... I haven't tried you yet," I told him, shaking my head in faux concern. "I mean, you could ride terribly. You could break down in a matter of minutes. I just can't take the risk of committing to that without at least taking a test drive."
Nixon's eyes went molten as his hands sank harder into my ass, using it to anchor me to him as he knifed up, got to his feet, jiggled me once to coax me into wrapping my legs around him, then stalked off toward my bedroom.
I didn't need a test drive.
I knew somewhere in my soul that he was going to be the best lay I'd ever had.
But, God, was I looking forward to it regardless...ELEVENReagan"What's the matter?" I asked when he strode into my bedroom only to stop suddenly, staring at something over my shoulder.
"I'm supposed to fuck you with that fucking thing sneering down at me?" he asked, making a weird snorting sound escape me as I craned my head over my shoulder to follow his gaze.
"That's my first piece of grown-up art I ever bought," I told him. "It's supposed to be subjective. Everyone sees something different in it."
"Yeah, well, I see a creepy fucking demonic goat thing sneering down at me."
A laugh escaped me at that. "I think my shrink would say that is very interesting."
His gaze slid back to me, a brow quirking up. "You want to psychoanalyze me, or you want me to get these clothes off of you, and bury my face in your pussy?" he asked, making my belly flip-flop in anticipation.
"I pick the second option," I told him, having to swallow hard to get the words out, suddenly feeling like it was hard to breathe.
"Figured," he agreed, moving toward the bed, lowering me down onto my back, his body pressing me into the mattress, a weight I had needed so badly.
His lips shifted, moving up my neck, teeth snagging my earlobe, before he moved back downward.
His tongue was tracing my clavicle when he suddenly pulled against my hold, pressed upward, stared down at me.
He waited to speak until my heavy eyelids fluttered open. "What do you see?" he asked.
"What? What do I see what?"
"In the picture," he clarified. "What do you see?"
"I, ah, I see a dark wood scene. Nothing specific," I told him. "Should I be worried that you're more interested in discussing art than having sex with me?" I asked, smile curving upward until my cheeks hurt at the strange, borderline horrified look on his face as he stared at the painting again.
He pulled fully away, standing, stomping across my bedroom. I turned my head on the mattress, watching him as he walked over to the wall, grabbed the frame, jiggling it a bit to get it off the nail it was attached to, then pulling it down. He carried it over to my closet, opened the door, practically tossed it in, then shut the door before turning back to me.
"There. Fixed it," he told me, giving me an uncharacteristically boyish grin as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Now," he added, eyes roaming over me on the bed, gaze getting heated again, "back to your pussy," he said, grin turning more into a smirk. A devilish one at that. "I gotta find out if it tastes like peaches like the rest of you," he told me, easing over my body once again, sealing his lips to mine.
The contact sent off a ricochet of need from my lips to every nerve ending of my body, pinging from one place to the next simultaneously, each sensation begging to be felt first, to be felt to the fullest.
My body warmed as my legs wrapped around his lower back, holding on with arms and legs as he nipped my lower lip, as his tongue slipped between.