“You realize this isn’t a fuckin’ negotiation, right?”
I try my best not to let the fear I feel show through. “You can’t do anything to me here.” I motion to the ceiling, toward the muffled sounds of thousands of fans cheering. Someone could come through here any minute. They’d hear if I scream. How do you think you could get me out of here without anyone knowing?” I take a step back, toward the door.
In an instant, he’s pinning me to the wall until his face is only inches from mine. Instead of threat in his face, I see the fire of lust again. Despite everything, I feel a faint rush of electricity pass through me. Why can’t I feel this way about a fucking accountant or some cubicle worker? He smiles and I see the deep lines of dimples crease his cheeks. Of course. He has dimples, too. The slightly boyish charm on his rugged and hard face is too much. I bite my lip, unable to look away from his piercing stare.
“Tell you what,” he says, voice quiet now. His hot breath brushes my skin, giving me chills. He smells good. Really good, like expensive clothes with an underlying musky scent that is raw and all man. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just threaten to scream. I’ll even pretend you were talking to me the way I deserve to be talked to. With respect. And I’ll make you an offer I should not make you.”
I nod, barely able to speak with him so close. He’s like a sex god. Just being near him heats my core and makes my entire body feel like it’s on fire and pulsing with electricity at the same time. It’s a physical struggle not to reach for him.
“I’ll let you walk,” he stops me from speaking by holding a finger to my lips. He drags it slowly down, following it with his eyes as he pulls my bottom lip down and steals a kiss, his tongue warm and wet in my mouth.
I melt into him against my will. This kiss isn’t like the sex. It’s tender. Almost loving, like I expect a husband would kiss his wife after a long time apart. It makes all kinds of ridiculous images burst in my mind; of weddings, vacations, and a small house in the suburbs with little children running around. But that life isn’t for me, and he is absolutely not the one to give it to me. He might as well have trouble tattooed on his forehead.
He pulls back. “I let you walk, but I get to take you out to dinner. Whenever I want.”
My stomach turns. “What, so you want me to pay for my life by being your personal call-girl?” Tears threaten to come again, but I hold them back. I’m about to tell him that I’m not some slut for him to use whenever the urge hits him, but how would that sound? How would it sound after I just got done letting him fuck me only a few minutes after meeting him? My cheeks burn with shame.
He grimaces a little at that. “I’m really going to have to teach you not to fuckin’ back-talk me.” There’s a hint of a grin in his features, a small glimmer of a promise that he will enjoy fulfilling the threat if he has to.
A vivid image pops into my mind of my naked body and him spanking my ass hard enough to leave a mark invades my thoughts. I push it down. Since when do I like that? I’ve never been turned on by being degraded or submitting before…I’ve also never met a man so commanding and sure of himself.
“Sorry,” I say quietly.
He breathes in deep and lets it out in a sigh, almost as if my words gave him some kind of pleasure. The way he is looking down at me makes me blush all over again. I look away, not wanting him to see what a mess I am, but he takes my chin with his calloused finger and tilts my face up until I’m looking into his eyes. “Doll, whether you like it or not, you just got yourself real fuckin’ tangled in my life, in more ways than one. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”
A few dozen questions bounce around in my head, but I have to push them all down. He probably just wants to see me again so he can make sure I’m not talking about what I saw. He’ll probably have me followed on my way home. What did I get myself into?
I do the only thing I can do and nod my head.
“Good girl,” he says, kissing me again. This time it’s hard as he crushes his mouth against mine and pins me to the wall. He slides his hand up my blouse and cups my breast, then pulls back abruptly. He has the nerve to smirk knowingly at me, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“You had better get back out there. It’s almost halftime.”
Shit. I don’t even know what the score is, and I’m probably supposed to be on the air any minute now. Eric is probably flipping his shit and here I am with a strangers cum still inside me and dripping down my thigh. He must see the panic in my eyes because he reaches out with both hands and pulls me toward him with surprising tenderness. He kneels slightly until our eyes are level. His eyebrows pull down and he moves his head from side to side, getting a look at me. He bites his lip in concentration, looking ridiculously sexy while he does, then reaches to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. He runs his hand over my top to smooth out the wrinkles and spends an extra few seconds smoothing the “wrinkles” in the back of my skirt.