Heat spreads between my legs and soaks my panties. My fingers shake, and my pulse thrums. I ache to lick every ridge, sink my teeth into his flesh, and suck all his hard edges.
Holy shit, what has he done to me? His kiss turned me into a panting hot mess, and now I’m drooling over his sexy-as-fuck body. I bet the bastard’s gloating.
I peer up at him through my lashes, but instead of a cocky smirk, I find his lips swollen and parted, eyes molten, and expression dazed.
“Fuck, Laynee.” He blinks. “Give me your mouth.”
His words… That raw look…
My brain short circuits, and I launch at him, fusing our lips and roaming my hands. Every muscled hill and valley is a playground for my fingers. There isn’t a squishy spot on his body, not a single ounce of fat. It’s not fair. I work my ass off in the gym and still have bits that jiggle and droop.
He chuckles against my mouth and grabs my wrists. “What’s with the claws?”
Oh. Oops. I glance at my trimmed fingernails and relax my hands. “I’m cursing the injustice in…” Sliding my palms up his defined chest, I lift the shirt to expose tight, dark nipples and chiseled pecs. “All of this.”
He glances down at his perfect body, his brows knitting together. “Injustice? I work hard—”
“While you’re living with me, you will not slack on your workouts.”
He laughs. “Is that an order?”
“Yes.” I bite down on my smile. “I have an extensive home gym. If you need weights or equipment added, let Reese know.”
“I don’t take orders, Laynee, but I’ll make a deal with you.” He guides my fingers across his washboard abs. “Touch me like this every day, and I’ll keep myself fit.”
“Deal.” Now I have a legitimate reason to grope him, one that has nothing to do with my self-destructive addiction to dominant men.
Leaning against the banister, he rests his hands on his spread thighs and watches me caress the warm marbled terrace of his torso. I don’t stare at the erection straining his jeans, but I’m painfully aware of its presence.
This man is a paradox. The feral fire burning in his eyes says he wants to explore my body the way I’m exploring his. He could tackle me to the floor this very instant, use his strength and size to force my legs open, and take what he wants. Yet he hasn’t touched me below the neck.
“We need to talk about rules.” With great effort, I pull my hands away and step back.
“Yes. Tell me about the rules you’re going to set, and I’ll tell you how I’m going to ignore them.”
“Decker—”
“Or we can make more deals. That approach seems to work with you.”
“What do you mean?” My hackles bristle.
“I give an inch. You give an inch. Let’s start with our sleeping arrangements.” He bends down and grabs his duffel bag. “Which room is yours?”
I’m still burning up from that kiss, and he wants to discuss sharing a bed? I shake my head, arms crossing defensively.
“You’re going to give on this.” He towers over me, the force of his gaze punctuating the command in his voice. “Tell me what I need to give in return.”
He’s smart, manipulative, and arrestingly handsome—a menacing combination for a man who kisses with unholy passion. He arouses me as much as he scares the crap out of me. I need to put space between us before I let him stomp all over my life.
“All right.” I raise my chin and meet his eyes. “You can sleep in my room—”
“In your bed.”
“Fine. In my bed, sleeping only, if you comply with my demand.”
His eyebrows pull together.
“You and Reese.” My voice grows husky just thinking about it. “I want to watch him suck your cock.”
“No.” His shoulders snap back. “Something else.”
“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“My answer isn’t going to change.” He grinds his teeth.
“Then your room is this way.” I pivot and head toward the guest rooms at the end of the catwalk.
“He’s your buffer.” His voice whispers with realization, stopping my feet. “You use him as a barrier between you and whatever this thing is that scares you.”
A swallow lodges in my throat, and I force myself to turn around and face him. “Seeing two men together turns me on, Decker. That’s all it is.”
“No, this goes beyond a simple kink.” He rubs a hand across his stubble, studying me. “You’re afraid of intimacy. Maybe not sex, but the deeper feelings, like trust, dependency… Love. Tell me why. What happened?”
His gaze is too perceptive, absorbing every tic in my expression as I gulp down my weaknesses and try to look tough. But I’m not tough, and if I give him a bullshit answer, he’ll see right through it.
“I’ve known you less than a day.” I plead with my eyes. Stop pushing so hard. “You’re demanding trust that you haven’t earned.”