Sweet Temptation / A Private Affair. Lauren Hawkeye
a tight line.
“You’re a smart woman. I won’t tell you why that’s different.” He raised a hand as she opened her mouth to yell. “I’m not saying that it’s right, or that it’s just how it is. But you know damn well that there’s a big difference between a man going home with a strange woman for the night, and a woman going home with a man. Bad things shouldn’t happen, but they do, and I don’t want them to happen to you.”
She ground her teeth together in frustration, and a good chunk of the emotion was because he wasn’t wrong.
“Well, what’s a horny single woman to do, then?” She smirked when he choked. “No matter where I meet a man, I can’t be sure that I’m safe until I get to know him. And once I know him, it’s not casual anymore, unless both parties agree.”
“I—” He started to speak, then stopped himself, shaking his head. “Yeah. You know what? That sucks. That really sucks for women.”
Meg gazed at him as he furrowed his brow, clearly working this over, and as she did, an idea formed. It was a bad idea. A very bad one, probably, but after the alcohol she’d consumed and the sensation of his lips on her lobe still making her shiver, it seemed completely logical.
“What’s that look for?” he asked warily. “I know that look. I’ve seen it on Jo. It usually means no good for me.”
“On the contrary, I think this would be very good for you. And for me.” She sank her teeth into her lower lip, and his eyes tracked the movement. Ah. Unless she was very much mistaken, John wasn’t feeling too brotherly at the moment.
“Care to clarify?” When his gaze met hers, she noted that his pupils had swollen, the black edging out the glacial color of his irises until only a thin rim of ice remained.
“You’re a smart man. I bet you can connect the dots.” She sucked in a deep breath—here went nothing. “You like casual sex. I’m looking for casual sex, and I’m not worried that I’m going to get into any kind of trouble with you. Amy would go after you with her tattoo machine, never mind Beth and all those scary-looking tools in her garage.”
“Wait. What?” He gaped at her like something out of a comic book. “What did you just say?”
“I said that Amy would go after you with her tattoo machine.” She knew what he meant, but nerves had flooded her veins, and she needed a moment to recover, to breathe. What had she just suggested? “And Jo... Well, she’d get creative. She’d probably put you in one of her blog posts and claim that you have a small penis.”
“I do not have a small penis,” he informed her. “Also, did you seriously just hit me up for casual sex?”
“What if I did?” Emboldened by the alcohol, though it hadn’t quite drowned out the flutter of nerves in her belly, she inched closer to him. He didn’t pull away. “There was a spark between us that first time we met. If you deny it, you’re lying.”
Testing, she leaned in, just a little. Those pale eyes darkened, the lids lowering to half-mast. Meg felt an answering heaviness in her belly.
“There’s a hole in your theory,” he replied, and she was gratified to hear the slight rasp in his voice. “We know each other. Therefore, it’s not casual.”
“It’s whatever we make it.” Holding her breath, she reached out, laid her palm on his chest. Spread her fingers out slowly, savoring the sensation of the solid muscle beneath her touch. “Weren’t you just saying that we all deserve a gourmet meal once in a while? We know each other. We like each other well enough. Neither of us is looking for anything more than casual. So why should we deny ourselves a gourmet meal?”
A low growl emanated from his throat, and she felt it right between her legs. Her lips parted, and she ran her tongue over them to dampen them as she watched emotions play out over his face.
He liked the idea, that was easy enough to see, but he might still tell her she was crazy and that it wasn’t going to happen. With most men, she could shrug off that kind of rejection—one of the benefits of keeping it casual.
With this man, right here, right now? If he said no, she’d be fine...but she couldn’t deny that it would sting.
“Meg.” Dipping his head, he pressed his forehead to hers. His 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