She was right. But the line between friendship and girlfriend was too terrifying to step over. He didn’t know how to play that role. He’d been alone far too long and knew he’d fail. He narrowed his gaze, took in her defensive stance, and relied on the only asset that always worked.
Sex.
“Maybe you like the sort of threats I give you,” he drawled. “Like ripping off your clothes and tossing you on that bed, till your smart mouth doesn’t know how to say anything else but my name?”
Oh yeah. Her eyes blazed and he caught the tightening of her nipples under her shirt. For a second, he thought she’d surrender. Would’ve cashed in all his chips on the bet and let it ride. But then she stiffened her spine, straightening to her mighty five-foot stance, tilted her chin, and stomped past him.
The bedroom door slammed behind her.
Wolfe groaned. He’d screwed up again. How had the whole conversation gotten redirected into an argument? What if he hadn’t come in and David had raped her? Wolfe shuddered at the memory. He’d use his dying breath to make sure that never happened. He didn’t want to shield her from the world, or lock her in a bubble like the asshole had. He just hated watching her get hurt. And now he was the one who’d hurt her.
He rubbed his fingers over his forehead and began cleaning up. He’d apologize. Give her a few moments to calm down. Maybe explain where his head was at, and how watching the attack affected him. Wolfe concentrated on stacking dishes, putting away the leftovers, and refreshing the wine. He’d knock and give her a peace offering. Try to communicate. He’d sleep on the couch tonight, give her some time, and—
The door opened.
Gen strode out in black lace boy shorts, matching push-up bra, and black leather stilettos.
Holy. Crap.
His gaze devoured the sway of her hips, the luscious curve of her ass, the mouthwatering cleavage on display. Her legs flexed with each step, pushing her breasts out. Her nipples pressed against the lace. Without a glance over, she clicked over toward the kitchen, completely ignoring his instant erection, hanging tongue, and lust-filled eyes.
“Oh good, you cleaned up for me. And poured more wine. Perfect.”
He tried to speak but only made some caveman noises.
She turned, and Wolfe caught the gorgeous ink hovering above the lacy band of her panties. The thorns wept blood, trickling down into the covered spaces of her bare ass.
“Wh-wh-what are you doing?” His voice sounded like a girly, high-pitched squeal.
She grabbed her glass, took a sip, and cocked her hip. Her belly quivered. Miles of pale, bare skin burned in his vision. “What do you think I’m doing?” she drawled. “Using sex to close out an argument.”
He blinked. “B-but you said that wasn’t a good way to communicate.”
She smiled at him with such dazzling sexual charm he became dumbstruck. “That’s true when a man uses sex as a weapon. But a woman? Well, that’s completely allowed. Can we make up now and watch Love It or List It?”
“Yes.”
He was on her in two seconds. Lifting her up and pressing her down onto the clean wood table. Knowing he’d never make it into the bedroom, Wolfe took what he wanted and swore he’d cherish for the rest of his life.
His woman.
She never had a chance. His mouth devoured hers, delving deep while he ripped off the tiny shorts and spread her legs. The moment his fingers slipped inside, her wetness coated him, but he couldn’t wait. This was no foreplay or slow, sweet teasing. This was pure sex and taking and hunger, so he maneuvered his belt open, took his dick in hand, dragged her to the end of the table, and paused at her entrance.
Ripping his mouth from hers, he gave the command. “Grip the edges of the table and don’t let go.”
She did.
One deep thrust and he was buried inside.
She moaned. Arched. Held on to the table like it was the only thing in the world to save her. And it was.
Wolfe held nothing back, pounding inside her drenched, silken pussy over and over, refusing to let up the pace or give her time to recover. She cried his name, bit down on her lower lip, and came.
He didn’t stop. Raising her higher so his piercing scraped her clit, he refused to slow, forcing her into another orgasm, while she begged and yelled and wept with pleasure.
Then he did it again.
Her body slumped helplessly underneath him. Her fingers gentled and she surrendered into the biting pleasure/pain, giving herself over completely.
Wolfe let go, burying himself deep and spilling his seed. His hips jerked as the stinging satisfaction rolled over him in waves, dragging him under.
Spent, he kissed her belly, her lips, stroked her damp hair back. Looked into her eyes, the gorgeous navy blue that beckoned him to give in, give over, and love her completely.
“Have I told you how much I adore your communication skills?”
She smiled, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him.
Twenty-four
GENEVIEVE SKIPPED UP the steps like she had so many times as a child. “Hurry up, we’re late.”
Wolfe trailed behind her, shaking his head in amusement. “Whose fault is that? I was dressed and ready. You’re the one who came out of the shower all wet and naked and inviting.”
Heat burned her cheeks. Unbelievable she could still blush. He’d stripped away all modesty and barriers with his voracious sexual appetite and adoring appreciation for her body. Gen had never felt so gorgeous, even with her full curves. Even knowing he’d dated skinny models. It was if she was finally coming into her body in her late twenties, enjoying her own unique assets and not looking to be someone else.