Sweet Temptation. Lauren HawkeyeЧитать онлайн книгу.
from this. No way in hell.
Opening her eyes, she fixed him with a laser-like blue stare. “Isn’t that what you like?”
His control snapped. With a growl, he lowered his hands to her hips. Sliding a palm along the outside of one of her thighs, he wrapped it around his waist, leaving her core exposed.
She gasped when he bent his knees, adjusting their position so that his rock-solid cock pressed against her entrance. With his free hand, he slid an inquisitive finger over her panties, finding her as slick as the satin of the thong she’d teased him with.
“Is this what you want me to take care of?” He rocked into her warmth again, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her leg, against the need to rip that flimsy excuse of a thong aside and drive himself home. “This greedy little pussy?”
“Y-yes.” Her skin was flushed, her breath coming in pants, her eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of sensation. “Please.”
“Then let’s discuss terms.”
He might have laughed at the shock on her face as her eyes flew open, but he understood just how desperate she was feeling.
“Now?” Her voice was incredulous. “How about in ten minutes? No, make it five. You’ve got me so fired up—it won’t take long.”
He laughed, a throaty chuckle as he ran his thumb slowly over her lips.
“We’re not doing this until we set some ground rules, kitten.” Reluctantly, he set her back on her feet, smoothing her dress back down around her hips and resenting the hell out of the cotton for the loss of access.
“All right.” She gave a shake like a puppy, as though to clear her head, then squared her shoulders, reminding him again of what he liked about her. She was hot, yes, but she was also stubborn and ambitious, both traits he admired. Both traits he had. “First. This is just for one week, yes? Just until you leave. Full stop.”
“Correct.” Though he was surprised and slightly unsettled to have her lay it out so clearly before he could; he wasn’t used to that. “I can’t offer more than a week.”
“I wasn’t asking for a ring, cowboy.” She arched an eyebrow, and John shifted. She was absolutely right, of course, so why did her willingness to limit their fling to a week unsettle him? “Like I said. I just want to hand over the reins for a few days.”
“I’ve never had a woman give herself to me for an entire week.” The thought of having Meg for seven entire days...of being able to explore things with her that he hadn’t yet with any other woman was intoxicating.
When he looked into her clear blue eyes again, he found her looking puzzled.
“That’s not sexist, is it?” Dammit. He’d just been saying what he felt.
“How is a choice I make freely sexist?” Meg cocked her head, and again, he felt as though she could see right through him.
“Then why are you looking at me like you’re confused?” Dipping his head on impulse, he brushed a hint of a kiss over her full pink lips—their first kiss, a promise of what was to come.
“Because you make it sound like I’m giving you a present.” A hint of uncertainty colored her voice. At least he wasn’t the only one off his game here.
“You are.” Sucking in a deep breath, he forced himself to take a giant step back, bumping into the car parked next to his. “And it’s a big present. So I want you to be absolutely sure.”
“I’m sure.” If her voice had been full of bravado, he might not have believed her, but what he heard was quiet yet sure. Yeah, she knew what she wanted, which was apparently the same thing he did. That, and the picture she made, leaning against his car with her dress all disheveled, skin flushed and eyes bright from his touch, made it so tempting to seal their deal right then, right there.
But she was giving him a gift, and he wanted to do right by her. So he simply ran a hand over the stubble on his skull and grinned.
“Go home, Meg. Think this over. Are you free tomorrow night?”
She nodded, and the trust in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees.
“Come to my hotel for dinner.”
“You don’t have to feed me,” she said as she smiled wryly. “You don’t have to wait, either.”
“You said you wanted to be taken care of,” he reminded her, surprising himself by crossing the space between them and taking her hand in his. He liked the feeling of her fingers twined with his. “I intend to do that.”
She frowned, clearly puzzled, and he swallowed a chuckle. He didn’t mind throwing this confident, competent woman off her game, just a bit.
“So cold showers for us both tonight?” She cocked her head as she spoke, leaning forward slightly. Deliberately, he was sure, to give him a prime view of her rather spectacular tits spilling out the top of her dress.
His cock stiffened impossibly further.
“I’ll take a shower,” he agreed, squeezing her fingers, “but I’ll be doing it with my cock in my hand, thinking about you.”
“John!” she gasped, her hand reflexively squeezing his. “God.”
“You can call me both of those things as much as you want.” He rubbed his thumb over one of her fingers, wondering why the small gesture made his pulse quicken. “But save them for tomorrow. You keep those busy little fingers out of your panties tonight, understood?”
“You’re not serious.” Her spine stiffened. “You can’t tell—”
“I can, and I just did.” He smirked down at her, bending so that he could whisper into her ear. “You gave yourself to me for a week, remember? And I won’t be cheated out of one of your orgasms.”
Meg’s breath thickened, and he wanted to take care of the mean little ache he’d given her, right then and there.
“There she is!”
Meg and John jerked apart, fingers untangling as they heard Jo’s unmistakable, throaty voice. Looking across the parking lot, they saw Meg’s sister and Theo, winding their way through the parked cars.
“What are you doing out here?” Theo frowned at John. John scowled right back, burying a twist of guilt.
He was new to this whole friendship thing, but he was pretty sure that making plans to screw the lights out of someone your friend considered a sister was a no-no.
“We wanted to talk, and it was too loud in there,” Meg replied mildly. She gave no sign of what they’d been discussing, and John had to admire her self-control, because he felt as though his actions were scrawled in red, right across his face for anyone to read.
He felt that twist of guilt, yes, but what he felt for Meg was stronger. Interesting.
“Did he behave himself?” Theo asked Meg darkly as he shot a look at John. His tone was joking, but John again felt the burn.
He’d cultivated the playboy image for years—reveled in it, even. Why did he suddenly care that people saw him that way?
That was a question for another day. He was trying to think up a reply when Meg cut him off.
“Theo, remember what happened when you gave me the John lecture last time?” Her voice was light, pleasant, but with a thread of steel.
“I’m just trying to—” Theo’s words broke off on a shriek as Meg, lightning quick, snaked out a hand. Catching Theo’s left nipple in nimble fingers, she gave it a quick twist that buckled his knees.
“What? Why?” Theo clasped a hand to his wounded chest, his expression tragic as a baby bird fallen from its nest.
“You don’t get to mansplain my choice of bed partners, bro.”