He was asking her to choose. She had wanted to be seduced.
She turned back to him, drawing in a slow, deep breath, her head lifting as she stared at the confident, cool countenance he presented to her.
“Get out of my bedroom.” She crossed her arms over her br**sts, pressing her lips together as she glared at him. “I’m not one of the Nauti Boys’ playthings. And I’m not in the mood for games. Not yours or anyone else’s.”
She watched the surprise gleam in his eyes for just a second. For the first time in all the years she had known him, she had never surprised him, until now.
With a ripple of muscle, he moved from the bed, his gaze never leaving hers as he rose, coming to his feet and walking around the bed.
He was aroused. The thick length of his erection tented his sweatpants, drew her eyes and made her mouth water. She had fantasized about that erection. About all the things a woman could do with such a prime piece of flesh.
She let her eyes linger on the proof of that arousal before lifting them to his face again. He was close. So close she could smell the clean, male scent of him. Dial soap and heated male arousal.
She stood still as he stalked around her, the movements deliberate, predatory. Suddenly he wasn’t the laid-back, patiently amused Rowdy she had always known. She could feel the purpose, the male intent that poured from him.
Her breath caught as he paused behind her, his hand reaching up to allow his fingers to smooth her hair back over her shoulder, to bare the shell of her ear.
“You’re mine.” She jumped at his whispered response. “And, baby, I do like to play.” His hands ran down her arms, creating a friction of heat as she felt his lips at her shoulders. “I guess that makes you my playmate, if not my plaything.”
Her eyes widened a second before she jerked out of his hold, turning back to him furiously.
“I don’t think so.” She gave him a tight, angry smile.
Stupid male confidence, she fumed.
He tilted his head, the beginnings of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
“I could convince you.”
No doubt.
She snorted as though it weren’t possible. Unfortunately, he probably could convince her, but at what cost to her soul?
“Go get in your own bed, Rowdy. Don’t make me cause a scene. Ray wouldn’t like it.” She walked to hers, flipping back the blankets and moving into the comfort of the mattress, ignoring him as though he didn’t matter. “Good night.”
He chuckled. “You’ve changed,” he murmured as he paced to the other side of the bed, staring down at her, aroused, determined.
“I haven’t changed at all, Rowdy.” She pulled the blankets to her waist as she sat propped against the pillows. “Perhaps you just never really knew me.” She raised her brows in emphasis. “That’s always a possibility.”
“You enjoyed waking up with me,” he accused. “You don’t want to throw me out.”
That one was a no-brainer. No, she didn’t want to throw him out. She wanted to curl against him and sleep as fearlessly as she had the night before and awaken as warm and protected as she had that morning.
She lifted her chin, refusing to answer him, fighting to hold his knowing stare as he watched her from beneath the veil of his thick, black lashes.
“Go play with someone else.” She might have to kill him if he tried. “I’m not interested in the games.”
“And you think this is a game?” He scowled down at her, his hands bracing on his powerful h*ps as his eyes began to simmer with irritation.
“I think it is for you,” she answered somberly. “And I’m not a game. Don’t play games with me, Rowdy. Not now, not ever.”
TEN
Rowdy leaned forward, muscular arms propping him up on the mattress as he stared into her eyes. Kelly fought the need to glance away from him, to deny the hold he had on her. There was no turning away from him. He mesmerized her, made her hungry, made her need.
“I’m not scared of you, Rowdy,” she tried to smirk back at him. “Don’t try to intimidate me.”
“If you don’t like the games, then don’t play them.” His voice was dangerously, warningly soft. “You want something from me, then tell me what you want.”
Her teeth clenched in anger.
“Fine,” she snapped. “I want you out of my bedroom and out of my face. Go away.” She made a shooing motion with her hand then stared at him in shock as his hand whipped out, catching her wrist.
Her heart jumped to her throat as he brought her fingers to his mouth, rubbed them against the velvet roughness of his lips before opening them and licking over the pads with a subtle flick of his tongue.
She was helpless. Struck dumb by the sheer sensuality of watching him caress nothing but her fingertips. Feeling the warmth of his lips, the flickering heat of his tongue, the sensual nip of his teeth.
Each caress sent flares of heat exploding with sensual devastation throughout her body. Her ni**les were so hard, the nerves there so sensitized, that they were sending rippling flares of response straight to her womb, convulsing it with an erotic punch of pleasure.
“Rowdy…” She was shocked at the whimper in her voice, at her inability to pull away from him.
He came closer. Kneeling on the bed, still holding her hand, he pulled her to him until she was on her knees facing him.
He took her other wrist, placing her palms against his chest before his hands smoothed up her arms, over her shoulders, down her back to her hips. She trembled, shuddering at the light caress; it could have been firmer, could have been more destructive. It was subtle instead. Soft. Giving her the chance to break away, knowing she couldn’t. That she wouldn’t.
“You’re mine,” he whispered again as his head lowered.
She stared back at him, fighting to breathe, fighting against the desires raging inside her. She was helpless against his touch, against the hunger that gleamed in his eyes.
Just as she became helpless against his kiss.
His lips covered hers, slowly at first. So slowly, too slowly. They stroked over hers, his tongue flickering out to lave them a second before his teeth caught the lower curve, nipping at it as he watched her.
Her breathing hitched as she felt his hands bunch in the material of the gown at her hips. It drew slowly up her thighs, working over her flesh, baring her to his hands.