Sweet Temptation. Lauren Hawkeye
skin was cool, a sharp contrast to her heat. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
She felt the disappointment as she would a plunge into an icy pool, and she hated that it affected her so much. With a frozen smile, she pulled back, away from his touch, and lifted her chin.
“You’re probably right.” Shit, shit, shit. She was not going to cry. She wasn’t that girl. And why did she even care? “Let’s just pretend I never brought it up, okay?”
Turning, she walked away quickly, heading blindly for... She wasn’t sure. Anywhere that wasn’t here. The bathroom, maybe—she’d get herself composed, then request an Uber.
She made it three feet, and there he was again, stepping into her path.
“Can you please just let me go be embarrassed in peace?” she ground out, trying to step around him. He stepped with her, and she growled with frustration. Then he dipped his head, pressing those full lips of his to her ear again, and she knew she wasn’t going anywhere.
“I said I didn’t think this was a good idea. I never said I wasn’t interested.”
DON’T DO IT, MAN.
Oh, but I really want to.
The good angel perched on John’s shoulder didn’t have a chance. John normally had a will of iron, but seeing that other man’s hands on Meg’s body had sent all common sense flying out the door.
“Cat got your tongue?” Meg looked up at him, challenge written all over her face. “Or do epic one-liners like that always render you mute?”
Arching an eyebrow, he opened his mouth to reply, but at the same moment, the deejay decided to play a track with enough bass to make the floor vibrate beneath their feet. Meg winced at the noise. When he pointed toward the front door of the bar, she nodded eagerly and didn’t protest when he placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her through the crowd.
He could feel the heat of her skin, emanating through the thin—very thin—cotton of her dress. A fabric like that would rip like tissue, revealing all of that soft peach skin, ready for his hands and his mouth.
The way she shivered beneath his fingers told him she might not be averse to that idea.
The air outside the bar was cool after the crush of bodies inside, a gulp of ice water on a parched throat. Watching Meg walk ahead of him, though, threw him right back into the fever.
“Did you know that your dress is completely see-through?” His voice was rough, the words catching in his throat as he guided her through the parking lot to where his car sat. He’d had too many drinks to drive, but it was the only quiet place he could think of to bring her.
“Is it really?” She smirked over her shoulder at him, the expression belying her words. “I had no idea.”
“Meg,” he protested, slowing as they reached his vehicle. With a gentle touch, he pressed her back against the passenger’s-side door, her back to the metal, him at her front. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“I didn’t dress like this for you,” she commented mildly, “but if I knew how much you liked red satin thongs, I might have worn one around you sooner.”
He exhaled harshly. Though he wanted to fill his hands with those lush tits of hers that were on full display, he forced himself to lay his palms flat on the car door on either side of her. Lowering his forehead to hers, he laughed roughly.
This was about to get really, really complicated, and yet he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to resist, not anymore. The last shreds of his willpower had disappeared with the word thong.
“John,” Meg whispered, frowning slightly, “I think it’s pretty clear that we both want this. So why are you holding back?”
Why was he hesitating?
With every other woman he’d allowed into his life, even for just a night, he’d had no connection. No attachment to them. Meg, though?
“I like you,” he admitted. He even...cared about her. He wouldn’t be able to just walk away.
“Liking me is good.” Meg grinned up at him, then trailed a finger down his chest, between his pecs...and then farther down. “See? I like you, too.”
Hissing, he caught her hand before she could take him to the point of no return. Still, her fingertips grazed the head of his erection through his slacks, and he saw stars.
“This part is easy,” he informed her, placing a mere inch between them, but an inch he very much needed to form any kind of coherent thought. “It’s the part that comes after that makes this messy.”
“You mean when you leave?” She cocked her head, studying him, and he had the uncomfortable sensation that she could see right through to the heart of him. Right to the part of him that wasn’t as excited to go as he should have been. “I think that makes it easier.”
“How so?” He held his breath, hoping both that she gave him a solid reason not to do this...and also that she had something to say that gave his conscience the all clear.
No, John. No, the little angel on his shoulder whispered.
The devil on his other side knocked the little angel out cold.
“You’re here for, what? One more week?” He nodded, and she pursed her lips—incredibly full lips that would look glorious wrapped around his cock. “That’s perfect.”
“How so?” He was stuck on the image of her lips. Discussing this like it might happen had his brain foggy, and he was having trouble keeping up.
“Well, I know you don’t do commitment. And that’s fine, because I’m not looking for it.”
He frowned slightly. For some reason, he didn’t like that, but she continued, “But I also have this sneaking suspicion that once isn’t going to be quite enough to get this out of our systems.” Without warning, she rose to her toes. Her soft, warm tongue darted out, tracing a line over his jaw, and he groaned with something akin to pain.
“You might be right about that.” His hand was in her hair before he consciously decided to do it, wrapped in the silky chestnut waves. She gasped, a throaty little sound, when he tugged just a bit.
“Do that again.”
Shit. He was really in trouble.
He tugged again, a little harder this time, and had the pleasure of seeing her cheeks flush with the most delicious shade of pink.
He liked to be in control. He could tuck it away and trot out a vanilla version of himself when the situation demanded it, but to have a woman respond to him the way Meg was right now, to just the slightest nonverbal command...
Yeah, one time was most definitely not going to be enough.
“Do you know what you’re asking?” He kept his voice deliberately mild, though he was feeling anything but.
“If you’re asking if I know that you’re a kinky bastard, yeah, I’ve heard the rumors.” She grinned up at him, but the sauciness of her words was undercut by the raw need he saw sparking in her eyes.
“Theo talks too much,” he muttered, to which she smirked.
“You can tell me why Theo knows so much about your kinks some other time.” Her expression grew serious.
“Tell me,” he said softly. Closing the space between them again, he pressed his hips flush with hers. She gasped when he rocked the solid length of his erection against the soft curves of her stomach. “I need to hear you say it.”
“I’ve been working so