Okay, I’m a liar.
“Yeah,” she whispers, parting her lips, a shaky exhale escaping when I sweep my thumb over the top of her foot.
I drop my gaze, taking in her pale blue painted toenails. “Cute.”
“My toes?” She wiggles them. “The color matches my shirt.”
Ah, the perfect excuse to check out that shirt again. I love how much of her it exposes without being trashy. Her skin is pale but not ghostly and she has a smattering of freckles on her shoulders. Makes me wonder where else she might have freckles. And why I’m suddenly so attracted to freckles.
I drift my hand up, over her calf, stopping at her knee. Her leg is smooth and if we were both drunker, I’d let my hand continue its search, going higher and higher until I ended up under her skirt. Under her panties…
“What are you doing?” she asks, sounding the tiniest bit breathless.
“Making sure you’re not injured,” I answer, proud of how under control I sound. Inside, I’m chaos. My heart is thumping hard against my chest and my breathing’s accelerated. I grip her knee, and realize my hand is fucking shaking.
“I think you’re trying to get your hand up my skirt.” Leave it to Bitch Face to call me out. I can’t help but find her straightforwardness attractive. No girl is ever straightforward with me. They’re always coy. Playing games and flirting and never asking for what they really want. They always defer to me.
After a while, that gets pretty damn boring.
“Maybe I am,” I say, moving my hand to rest on top of her knee.
Her lips curve into the smallest smile and seeing it feels like a victory. As if I’ve just won an extra difficult battle and that tiny curve of her lush lips is my prize. “You’re pretty determined, aren’t you?”
She’s not pushing me away. I need to take this moment. Seize this fucking moment and make it mine. Make her mine. At least for tonight. Her scent is making my head spin and just touching her knee has got me sporting wood. “I’m always determined.”
“Determined to piss me off?”
I chuckle and her smile grows. “Am I doing a good job?”
“You’re an expert at making me mad.”
“I think we’re having a moment,” I tell her. “A bonding moment.”
She looks the slightest bit horrified. “No. Way. That is the last thing I want to do.”
I raise my eyebrows, let my hand slide up a bare inch more. Then another. I’m so close to getting under that skirt, it’s not even funny. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”
“You don’t like me either. You call me Bitch Face.”
“You introduced yourself to me as Bitch Face.”
She tilts her head, all that wavy red hair tumbling over her shoulder. My fingers itch to touch it. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. I thought it was an unusual name…” I let my voice drift and she smiles once more.
“Says the man with an unusual name.”
“I told you it’s an old family name.”
“As a last name, not as a first.” She makes a little face. “It’s not very sexy.”
“You don’t think?” Interesting.
“I can’t imagine shouting out your name in the throes of passion.” Her cheeks go the faintest pink. That she’s even thinking like this gives me a secret thrill.
Forbidden. Unknown. This is the last girl I should consider getting naked with.
“Throes of passion?” I ask. “Someone’s been reading too many romance novels.”
“You know what I mean.” She waves a hand, dismissing her words.
“I don’t.” I pull the innocent act, which she isn’t falling for but it’s still fun. “What are you talking about exactly?”
“You’re not going to make me explain, are you?”
“I would love for you to explain. Or maybe I should help you.” I crawl my fingers up her thigh, playing with the frayed hem of her denim skirt. “Are you talking about…having sex?”
She nods, her cheeks blazing up. Hmm, she’s extra pretty when she blushes.
“And that moment…when we’re fucking…and you’re so damn close.” I lean in and inhale deep, my eyes almost falling shut as I absorb her scent, her warmth and that flush in her cheeks, the way her breathing quickens. “So fucking close as I push deep inside you. You don’t think it would be sexy to yell out my name just as I make you come?”
“N-no.” She shakes her head, that single word coming out as a squeak.
“Really.” I give in and settle my cheek next to hers, nuzzle her ear with my nose before I whisper, “Because by the time I have you coming, I’m fairly certain you’ll be crying out my name and begging me please.”
“You’re a real arrogant prick, aren’t you?”
I pull back from her the slightest bit, a little shocked. The girl doesn’t mince words. “Merely confident in my abilities.” I cup the back of her head, thread my fingers in the silky soft waves of her hair. I’d love to wrap her hair around my fist and tug her head back right before I kiss her…
“Proud of your man-whore status?”
“I can’t help it if the ladies flock to me.”
She rests her hand on my chest and gives me a gentle shove. “I’m not flocking to you.”
“Even after all that talk about coming and with my hand up your skirt?”
Jade looks down with a sharp gasp, dropping her hand to mine and shoving it out from beneath her skirt. “What are you doing?”
“I thought it was obvious.” When she says nothing, only glares at me, I continue. “I was going to kiss you and hopefully get you off with my fingers.”
Her mouth drops open. Instead of looking aroused, she looks…pissed. Vaguely horrified. “You’re disgusting.”
I lean back. Move way, way back though I’m not getting off the bed. Not yet. I still have a chance.
Or then again, maybe I don’t.
I almost fell for all of that. The charm, the seductive tone of his voice, the way he looked at me, the way he touched me. Somehow, without me being aware of it, he’d skimmed those too sure fingers up my leg and slipped them beneath my skirt. Nuzzled my face with his. Freaking talked about being inside of me and making me come all while I’d be begging and shouting his name.
What a perv. Worse? I like his perverted side.
A lot.
“Shepard Prescott,” I whisper, trying it out. “Shepard. Shep.”
He runs a hand through that sexy mop of hair. It’s in dire need of a trim. Touched with gold as if the sun reached out and shot her rays directly on those rich brown strands. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, Shep.” I smile, feeling like the chick that fakes an orgasm in that one movie from the eighties. Mom loves that movie. I prefer Sleepless in Seattle but whatever. “Touch me there, Shep. Deeper Shep.”
He smiles. “See? Is that so hard?”
“Are you hard?” I clamp my lips shut the moment the words fall out of my mouth. Did I really just say that?
He clears his throat, readjusts the front of his jeans. Oh good lord, I did. And I think he is.