“Don’t what?” he repeated. His voice was low, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Don’t put on a show trying to make me think you don’t want me.”
He didn’t flinch; he didn’t move. “Maybe I don’t.”
I leaned closer. Slowly. Seductively. “Bullshit.”
His face stayed exactly the same. And yet I could see the smile growing inside of him.
And as my own smile bloomed, I lowered myself until there was nothing separating us but the satin of my panties and the cotton of his slacks. I held on to the chair, moving my hips forward and back, letting the friction drive me a little crazy. “Did you think I’d run?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Did you think I’d be shocked watching that woman do these things to you?” I leaned forward and ran my tongue over the curve of his ear. “I wasn’t. I didn’t even see her. Do you know why?”
“Why?” he asked, the single syllable more of a growl than a word.
“Because as far as I was concerned there was no other woman. It was me on your lap,” I said as I rocked my hips. “Me touching you. Me making you hard.”
I slid my hand down between our bodies and pressed my hand over his erection.
And as I watched the heat flare in his eyes, I reveled in a sense of smug satisfaction. Because I knew that, no matter what, I’d won this round.
thirteen
“This isn’t happening, Angie,” he said, blowing away my sense of victory like so much dandelion fluff.
“You’re wrong,” I said.
“I’m very rarely wrong.”
“You’re smug, too. I like that in a man.” I shifted forward so that my lips brushed his ear as I spoke. “I just want to fuck,” I said, and felt my lips curve into a smile as his cock stiffened in response to my raw—but very honest—words. “I’m not asking for a wedding ring. I’m not asking for forever. I’m not asking for any commitment at all. Hell, I’m not even asking for a date. I only want this,” I said as I stroked him. “I only want to finish what we started.”
“It’s not a good idea,” he said, and I heard the tight note of control in his voice.
“I think it’s one of the best ideas I’ve ever had,” I murmured. “What was it you said when you ran out of the condo? About how you made a promise to my uncle? You’re so damn worried about keeping your promises. Well, you know what, Evan? You made one to me, too. Maybe not in words, but …” I trailed off, letting my body language finish that sentence as I shifted on his lap, feeling wild. Feeling reckless. He was right—we shouldn’t. And yet how could I stop when this was what I’d wanted for so damn long? When I needed it so desperately?
I brushed my lips over his. I felt powerful, certain victory was near, and I didn’t intend to relinquish an inch.
I pulled back, my eyes locked on his. “I want what you promised me.”
“Dammit, Angie …”
“You say you’re a bad bet?” I pressed, determined to cut off all protests. “I don’t care. Not everyone goes to Vegas to win. Some just go to have fun.”
“I like to win.” His rough voice sent shivers over me.
“Then I’m your prize. No,” I said, pressing my finger to his lips before he could say another word. “I want to go wild with you, Evan. I want to fly with you. One time. Can’t we both take the risk one time?”
“It’s reckless,” he said, as his hand slid up my back to cup my neck.
“Maybe.”
“You’ll regret it,” he murmured as his other hand stroked my exposed thigh.
My breath was ragged. “I won’t.”
“It won’t be gentle. If I let go, I’m not going to hold back.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Triumph swelled through me as I swallowed. My breasts were painfully tight and my sex throbbed, demanding everything he was promising. “Don’t you get it? I want it all. I want to fly.”
“Fly?” he said as that hand moved higher and higher, each millimeter setting off a flurry of sparks that ricocheted through me. There was no hesitation left in his voice, just passion and a power so vibrant that I knew without a doubt that any control I’d thought I had was now buried under the strength of this man.
“How high do you want to go?” His finger eased up to trace the edge of my panties. “This high?” he asked as he slipped his finger under the elastic and stroked my baby soft skin.
I couldn’t help the little moan that escaped my lips as I lost myself in the pleasure of his touch.
“Oh, baby,” he murmured, as he stroked me, his fingers teasing and exploring. “But you haven’t answered me. You want to fly”—he thrust a finger deep inside me, and I bit back a cry as my body tightened around him, silently begging for more—“you need to tell me how high.”
But I couldn’t tell him anything. I could only feel, could only exist in that moment. That power I’d felt only moments before had completely faded. I was as weak as a kitten and completely at his mercy.
I shifted, lifting myself up a bit to give him better access and, yes, to silently beg for more.
He flashed a self-satisfied smile, then added another finger. He was deep inside me, the soft pad at the base of his thumb teasing my clit as his fingers filled me. I was desperately wet, my hips moving in rhythm with his thrusts. I was need and desire personified. He had reduced me completely.
“I’m going to take you to the heavens, Angie. And I’m going to be your tether to this earth when you explode.”