Page 34

Yes. Way.

“Jensen!” I whisper-shout.

Peeling his arm that’s draped across my breasts, he groans into his pillow.

“Get your big body off me. I slept in your room overnight!”

I don’t know why I’m acting surprised since we didn’t stop going at it until the early hours of this morning. And that was because I finally broke and told him I was too sensitive to continue. Honestly, I think he could’ve gone through to sunrise.

This fucking kills me to say, but he’s a machine. A sex god, and he knows it.

“I literally couldn’t care less,” he mumbles.

“Yeah? Well, I do.”

From over my shoulder, he turns his sleepy face to look at me and smiles. “Turn around and face me.”

“No.”

The arm he’s refused to move grips my hip and slowly rolls me onto my back. I yield and look at him. “What?”

“Are you ashamed of me?”

I balk. “No. I?—”

“She was my sister’s best friend; she was drunk, and she needed someone to make sure she got home safely.”

I pull back and look at him. “You’re not bullshitting me, are you?”

He shakes his head. “No, Princess. I’m not.”

“And the brunette on your lap?”

He sighs. “I didn’t do anything with her, either.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Rolling onto his back, he runs a palm across his face. “I wanted to make you jealous.”

“Prick.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’re joking, right? You came to the Stanley Cup finals wearing my best friend’s jersey and a smug look on your face and didn’t expect me to react?”

“I can wear whoever’s jersey I want!”

Rolling his tongue to the roof of his mouth, the fierce look his eyes wore last night returns. He stares up at the ceiling and cracks his neck to the side. “No. You can’t.”

I sit up, and the sheets fall from my naked body. Noticing the way his eyes float across my skin, I inwardly curse myself for the way it makes me feel. Needy for him to put his huge hands on me again. “Um, I think you’ll find I can.”

Sitting up, too, his hand shoots up and grips the tip of my chin between his thumb and forefinger. Turning my head to his,he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “So you’re telling me when you wore my jersey that day, you didn’t want my cock buried inside you like it was last night? You didn’t want to hand yourself over for me to play with? And your pussy wasn’t throbbing with anticipation of how I would react when I saw my name stamped across your back?”

“No.”

“You’re a fucking liar. And stubborn as hell. You want me; you want this. I’m the first person in your life who’s got the full measure of you, and you can’t deal with it. So what do you do? You get pissy with me.”

Who thefuckdoes he think he is?!

Anger climbs up my spine as I desperately try to search for a response. A comeback to prove him wrong. He doesn’t know me, and he doesn’t get to pass out judgments either.