Page 86 of Slumming It

And he did care about me. He'd said so, right?

I was still lost in his gaze when he said, "Don't."

"Don't what?"

His gaze dipped to my lips and lingered like the promise of a kiss. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you want me." A ragged edge crept into his voice. "Trust me, you don't."

Wow. Talk about mixed messages.

Speaking of which, I could feel a new hardness building between us, pressing against my pelvis, proving that the issue wasn't a lack of desire.He wanted me.Maybe he didn't want me quite as much as I wanted him, but there was no hiding his interest.

The proof of his arousal emboldened me to say, "But what if I do? Want you, I mean."

"Then you're wrong."

"Oh, so you're reading my mind?"

"No. I'm telling you. You don't want this."

This?

Did he mean his cock?Because actually, Ididwant it. I wanted to feel it thrusting inside me. I wanted to see his bare chest and grab his ass as he drove into me like he had the other night in my own secret fantasies.

And now he was telling me what I supposedly wanted?What exactly was I missing.

His last statement hung between us.You don’t want this.

Finally I asked the obvious question. "But why not?"

"Because I’m not a nice guy."

It was uncanny to hear him replaying something I'd thought to myself just a few moments ago. But this wasn't the only thing I'd been thinking. I'd been thinking of the other side of him – the nicer side, the protective side, the side that hadn't bolted when things got tense.

I asked, "Is that supposed to scare me?"

"It would if you're smart."

"Oh." I tried for a laugh. "So you're calling me stupid?"

"No. I'm calling you reckless."

I had never been called reckless before – not by anyone likehim– and for some reason I liked the sound of it. My chin lifted in defiance. "You're nicesometimes."

His voice hardened. "Yeah, well, this isn't one of those times."

His words felt more like an insult than a warning. "What are you saying? That you would be doing it just to be nice?" My face, already flushed, burned with humiliation. "Like you'd be doing me a favor?"

His voice softened. "Trust me, the favor isnotsleeping with you."

Sleeping with me.I recalled something he'd said to me on that very first day.We're here to talk, not fuck. He'd been so rude and crude. Now he was couching this more delicately, as if he actually cared about my feelings.

That was a good sign, right?

Again, I asked the obvious question. "Why?"