“It’s just…I can’t let him see me like this.”
Now I’m confused. “What are you talking about? You look great.” She always looks great.
“No, not in these clothes. He said it wasn’t attractive that I was so driven. It was one of the reasons he wanted to break up. That I…he said I was too…masculine.”
You have got to be fucking kidding me. I’m masculine. Hillary Clinton is masculine. Kate Brooks doesn’t have a goddamn masculine cell in her body. She’s all woman, believe me.
But I know what the fucker was going for. Kate is intelligent, outspoken, ambitious. Lots of men—like the shit-eating asshole, for instance—can’t handle a woman like that. So they twist it around. Make those qualities seem unappealing. Something to be ashamed of.
Screw this. I grab Kate’s hand and drag her out from under the table. She looks around quickly as I lead her to the dance floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you back your dignity.”
I bump into several people on the way, making a slight ripple, so I’m sure Douchebag will notice us. “By the time I’m done, Billy Warren will be kissing your feet, your ass, and any other body part you tell him to, to get you back.”
She tries to pull out of my grasp. “No, Drew that’s not really…”
I turn to face her and put my arms around her waist. “Trust me, Kate.” Her body’s close to mine, her face so near I can see the green speckles in her eyes. Why the fuck am I doing this again?
“I’m a guy. I know how we think. No guy wants to see a girl that used to be his with someone else. Just go with me on this.”
She doesn’t answer. She just raises her arms around my neck, bringing us together—chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thigh to thigh.
It’s agony. Exquisite, delicious agony.
With a mind of its own, my thumb draws slow circles on her lower back. The music swirls around us, and I feel buzzed—not from the drinks, but from the feel of her. I want to ignore the perfect way her body fits against mine. I try to remember my noble intentions. I should glance up to see if Dirtbag is watching us. I should, but I don’t. I’m too caught up in the way she’s looking at me.
Maybe I’m deluding myself, but I swear it’s desire I see swimming in those dark beauties. Naked, uninhibited want. I lean in and brush my nose against hers, testing the waters.
I’m not doing this for me. Really. I’m not doing this because being this near to her is the closest to heaven that I’ll ever get.
This is for her. Part of the plan. To win back the scumbag who doesn’t deserve her.
I press my lips against hers softly. It’s tender at first, and then she melts against me. That’s when I start to lose it. She opens her mouth, and I slide my tongue in slowly. Then harder, firmer, more intense, like the downhill swoop of a rollercoaster.
I forgot how good she tastes. More decadent than the richest chocolate. Sinful. It’s different from the other times we’ve kissed. Better. There’s no anger behind it, no frustration or guilt or a point to prove. It’s unhurried, languid, and fucking sublime.
Our lips separate, and I force myself to look up, catching Warren’s devastated glare before he disappears into the crowd. I turn back to Kate and touch my forehead to hers. Our breaths mingle—mine panting, hers gasping slightly.
“It worked,” I tell her.
“What?”
I feel her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. And when she speaks, her voice is breathy. Needy. “Drew…could you? Drew…do you want…?”
“Anything, Kate. Ask me anything and I’ll do it.”
Her lips part, and she stares at me a moment. “Would you…kiss me again?”
Thank. You. God.
And as for you, Jiminy? Piss off.
Chapter 13
THE RIDE TO MY APARTMENT is an exercise in stunt driving. Trying desperately to keep my mouth on Kate and not get us killed. She sits on my lap straddling my waist, kissing my neck, tonguing my ear—driving me out of my frigging mind. I’ve got one hand on the steering wheel and the other wedged between us, gliding over her stomach, her neck, and those perfect breasts that tease me through her half-open shirt.
Do not try this at home, kids.
Her skirt bunches high on her thighs as she grinds herself on my straining cock. She’s so damn hot against me, I have to use every ounce of will not to let my eyes roll back into my head. I kiss her hard and watch the road over her shoulder. She slides up and down, jerking me off slowly with the pressure. Fucking Christ, dry humping never felt so good.
Control? Restraint? They went bye-bye a long time ago.