“Flash that panty-dropping grin at me.”
He chuckled, low and deep in his throat. “Most girls like that, kitten.”
“I’m not most girls.”
“Oh yeah? What else did you notice?”
“Hmm.” His thumb stroked my jawline softly. It felt incredible. “How good you taste. Your scent. The way your body feels when you come. How it felt when you dug your hands into my hair.”
My body responded to his voice by breaking out in chill bumps, my heart thumping quickly in my chest. His way with words was too much. He was too bold. Too confident. My poor libido couldn’t take it.
“What do you remember?” he whispered softly.
A thousand images flashed through my brain. Braydon’s hands skimming up my thighs. My panties dropping to the floor. His hands on my hips as he guided me into the stall. His tongue sliding against mine. The way his stiff tuxedo felt against my hands, and his soft hair between my fingers. “Your, um, pretty blue eyes and messy hair,” I croaked.
He smiled widely. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
He leaned toward me slowly, giving me the chance to pull away. Only I didn’t. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine again. I let my eyes drop closed and awaited contact. He didn’t disappoint. His soft, full mouth pressed slowly to mine, his lips damp and parted. Our tongues touched once, twice, as he kissed me slowly. It made me want more. Pushing my hands into his hair, I angled my mouth closer, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His tongue swept against mine, dancing so knowledgeably and intimately that I was lost to him.
He pressed down on me, guiding me to the mattress so he could move on top of me. Suddenly realizing whose bed we were on, I pushed against him. This was wrong. “Stop, we can’t.”
“What’s wrong, kitten?” he murmured against my neck, pressing damp kisses along the column of my throat.
“This is Ben and Emmy’s bed.” I pressed a palm flat against his chest, putting some distance between us.
He looked around like he was noticing our surroundings for the first time. Then he rolled off me and we lay side by side. “Let me take you home then.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. This just isn’t me.”
He pressed a palm to my cheek, giving it a careful pat.
“I didn’t mean to lead you on. I just can’t do this.”
His thumb lightly rubbed my cheek and his other settled against my hip. “You had fun the other night, right?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Let me ask you something.” He hesitated just a moment, his thumb lightly caressing my skin. “You feel this between us, right? This . . . connection?”
I blinked at him, refusing to answer. Of course I did. I’d be dead not to.
“We owe it to ourselves to give in to this. It’s not always like this, you know? This chemistry we have. And I know you feel it, too.” He swallowed, continuing to watch me. “I know you’ve sworn off men, so I’m not asking for anything in return. No commitment. No strings. Just us. Exploring this. Giving in to this sexuality between us.”
Original. A man who wanted casual sex without any chance of commitment. “Are you high? What in the world makes you think I’d be interested in that type of arrangement?”
His eyes locked on mine. “You can’t deny the chemistry between us. Imagine how good it will be when we f**k.”
I inhaled swiftly, biting my lip to keep from whimpering.
Braydon continued, “Sex and intimacy is a physical need. An ache all of us have. I could fulfill that for you.”
I remained silent while I contemplated his words. On the surface they made sense. I had physical needs. My vibrator usually satisfied those. For the most part. Sort of. But Braydon was gorgeous. And funny. And sexy. And he certainly wasn’t cut out to be my Mr. Right, so there’d be little harm in indulging in whatever this was with him. Right?
“One taste wasn’t enough, kitten,” he growled.
Our eyes connected and I searched for meaning behind his proposal. Why did he want me? And why did he want sex but not a relationship? What was that wounded look he worked to cover with his sexy bravado?
I knew this was wrong on so many levels. This was Braydon, male model and player extraordinaire. He was so far out of the realm of anyone I’d consider dating. But even as the thoughts tumbled inside my head, I knew that wasn’t what this was. He wasn’t asking to date me. And just once, I wanted to do something crazy. Act on my body’s hidden desires for a man so devastatingly beautiful I’d want the lights on during sex—cellulite be damned—just so I could watch him come apart. I wanted to be naughty. To have an adventure that I’d remember fondly for years to come. And Braydon seemed all too happy to oblige me. Maybe it was the wine that had left me hazy and warm, but his idea didn’t sound that bad.
He mistook my silence for acquiescence and leaned in to kiss me again, his lips softly molding to mine, then growing more demanding as the intensity between us ramped up. My arms circled his neck, my fingers roaming into his hair, and I pressed my body to his. His hips pressed to mine and I felt his heavy erection nudge against my belly. I pulled back just a fraction.
“Bray . . .” I breathed, pressing a palm to his chest. I didn’t know what I was asking for, but the needy quality to my voice was a dead giveaway.
“I don’t mean to get you so riled up,” he chuckled.
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