Page 29 of Dirty Roxie

I look at him, his eyes are heated as they meet mine. I want to kiss him. Or maybe I want him to kiss me. I want it to be something he wants to do, and not just because he’s hiding our faces from Viktor.

“Maybe,” I challenge. “Or you got lucky.”

It takes two steps before he’s in my space, and he plasters his body against mine. I don’t retreat. Instead, I press back with my chest as he closes in, my breasts pushed up between us. My nipples harden at the contact.

“I am the winner.” His voice is hoarse and his gaze flickers between my lips and my eyes.

Just kiss me.

I want to scream at him, but I don’t dare. If ever a move is to be made, it will need to be his. I’ve played my hand, and he’s rejected it time and again. I don’t need to keep beating my head against a wall to know that it’s solid.

Do it.

He lifts a hand to the side of my face and cups my cheek. I lean into it, eager for the contact. His face lowers, his full lips a fraction of an inch from mine. My breath catches as I wait for us to connect. My hands fist at my sides. His tongue snakes out to dampen his lips, and I close my eyes, swaying toward him, lips parted ready for it.

Waiting.

Nothing happens.

I open my eyes as he steps back and shakes his head as though to clear it.

“We’ve got to go, ya?”

My heart sinks as I watch him head for the car.

I know he wants me. Why does he fight it? I just need him to open up to me. Once he trusts me, he will let me in, right? I don’t need into his heart or his mind. Just his bed.

Why does he make it so hard?