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“Like what?”
“Like you want to climb me like a tree.” I smirk as her cheeks flush. “Get in the car, cupcake.”
She huffs but gets inside. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” I shut her door, circling to the driver’s side. “You just hate that I’m right.”
And I need to calm down. I’m harder than a goddamn rock, and she didn’t even touch me.
The drive’s quiet except for Naomi’s fingers drumming against her thigh, pressing them together and shifting every few minutes, her dress riding higher and higher. My hand itches to caress that exposed skin and feel how wet she is for me, but more than that, I want to wrap her in a blanket and make sure she’s okay. Keep her safe. Protected.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, fighting both. “Stop fidgeting.”
“I’m not.” But her fingers still. “And I’m not that drunk.”
She’s making me worry about her more than usual, which I didn’t think was possible. “Right.” I flick on my turn signal.
She stretches, arms above her head, pushing her tits together, and I nearly crack a tooth, grinding my jaw.
“Keep teasing, cupcake,” I say. “See where that gets you.”
“Mmm.” Her hand lands on my thigh, fingers trailing up the inseam of my jeans. “Where will it get me?”
I catch her wrist before she can reach her target. “Behave.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll find out exactly how creative I can be with punishment.” I press a firm kiss into her palm, my lips lingering just long enough to make her shiver. “Only good girls get rewarded. Remember?”
She yanks her hand back, slumping into her seat, pouting. That seems to have done the trick. But it only holds that long.
The moment we’re inside my apartment, she kicks off her heels, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor.
Her eyes lock with mine as she reaches for the zipper of her dress. “Hot in here, isn’t it?” She drags it down with deliberate slowness.
I lean against the wall, crossing my arms. “What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable.” The dress slides off one shoulder, revealing black lace underneath. “Problem?”
“No.” Yes. I track the movement of her hands. “Feel at home.”
“I’m not seducing you.” Her dress hits the floor, pooling at her feet. Black lace hugs every curve, and my mouth goes dry. “If that’s what you think.”
“Because this is how you usually walk around here.” I drag my eyes up her body, lingering on the matching set. “Around me.”
She shrugs one shoulder, the movement pure sin. “Maybe it is.”
My fingers crave to touch her, my dick wanting to pound that tight and most definitely wet pussy.
“Got any water?” She sways toward me. “I’m parched.”
“In the fridge.” I don’t move from my spot. “Along with your dignity, apparently.”
“Funny.” She heads to my kitchen, and I force myself to breathe.
Count backward from ten. My stocks plummeting. Anything to keep from ravaging her like a madman.
She opens the fridge, bending over and giving me the perfect view of her ass. “Found it.”