by Kylie Scott
“The look you give me before you remember to be pissed at me.” He leaned forward and she resisted the urge to shuffle back. “You don’t hate me, Roslyn. Not even a little.”
“Do too.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “You don’t.”
“That’s what you think,” she said, because she needed to say something and that was the best her absent brain could do.
With a wink the bastard rose to his feet. “I can’t believe how you trashed the place.”
“Mm,” she said.
He bitched some more about the mess.
She ignored him.
Because he was wrong; she did hate him.
Mostly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nick wasn’t usually the type to hang about in bed. Or at least, not without a damn good reason.
His good reason lay half across him, sound asleep. Roslyn was sprawled over him, her cheek on his chest. Their cuffed wrists sat on his stomach and he lay on his back, reading. The position made holding the notebook tricky, but he was determined. It seemed more of a diary than a notebook and it had been jam-packed full of Roslyn’s thoughts on pretty much everything.
How she hated red wine, but loved gin. The names of the many romance books she’d read and what she thought of them, in excruciating detail. Her tiffs with her mum and worries about her job. Some concerns regarding the size of her ass and how her breasts didn’t sit as high as they used to. Which wasn’t right, because her tits and ass were perfect. Judging from what little he’d seen of them, of course. A closer look would help him reassure her.
Fuck, he wished. She would have to be asleep or hysterical to let him near her.
Ros snuffled on his chest. Her fingers flexed against his ribs, the short nails scraping over his skin grabbing his immediate attention. Hard not to be hard with a hot woman all over you, and this woman in particular, she felt just right. He stroked her crazy red hair, crooning nonsense to her for a moment. She seemed to like that. Her body relaxed against him, soft and sweet.
Despite the room being closed up, enough daylight peeked through here and there for him to read by. There were complaints about her father in the diary, a fair few of those. Seemed her dad had been quite the army man, moving them around, handing down orders. In truth, he sounded a bit of a jerk. No wonder she wasn’t impressed with Nick’s choice of career. Those days, however, were gone. But they had left him with the ability to protect and care for her. Ideally, it’d score him some points, but she wasn’t that easy.
She had dated. A decent number of men’s names came up in the diary, maybe even a few more than he felt comfortable with. Though if he was being a judgmental prick, he’d say she put more energy into the books she read. They certainly got more line space and fewer insults lobbed their way.
Seemed Roslyn was a very picky girl when it came down to it. Not so surprising.
Eyelashes fluttered over him, tickling him, as she stirred once more against his chest. Her mouth opened wide on a yawn, jaw cracking. The length of her body arched and went rigid as she stretched her back, the mounds of her breasts pushing into him. He’d be fucking delighted to set her straight with regard to her breasts. They were delicious and so was she. What were the odds of the sweater she was wearing magically disappearing? Probably low.
“Morning,” he said.
After blinking several times, she looked up at him and scowled. She abandoned her position, rolling off him and onto her side. Her wrist tugged at the cuffs, dragging at him. He almost dropped her diary.
She gazed at him crankily, terse lines bracketing her mouth. “What …”
Hard not to smile at her. She was so cute, all sleepy and ruffled. She frowned at his chest as if it had personally assaulted her. Like she hadn’t smeared herself all over him in her sleep of her own free will. Well, maybe she’d had a little help. A warm woman could be hard to resist on a cold winter’s night.
“Keep making that face and you’re going to get wrinkles,” he said.
Her eyes cut to his. “What did you do? Did you move me in my sleep?”
“No,” he lied.
“Right.” She snorted and tugged again on her end of the cuffs.
Then she saw the diary. Her diary. Eyes huge with horror, she grabbed for it. But he’d been expecting that. Quickly he passed it into his other hand and dangled it out over the side of the mattress, keeping it out of reach.
“What are you doing with that?” she screeched.
“Didn’t I tell you? I went to pick up your stuff yesterday.”
“Give it to me!” Roslyn lunged, attempting to clamber over him.
He grabbed a fistful of her sweater with his cuffed hand, holding her back. Her other arm thrashed futilely about for the notebook. “Nick!”
His eardrums rang. “Noise.”
“Give that to me,” she hissed, hand waving. Obviously she’d given no thought at all to the way she was wriggling on top of him. His morning hard-on roared back to life. Reading her thoughts on other men had cooled him off, but this sort of stimulation he couldn’t ignore.
“So, this Tim guy, he refused to go down on you?”
“Nick.” His name was a short, sharp bark.
“Any heterosexual male who doesn’t like eating pussy is a fucking idiot, don’t you think?”
“Give it.”
“I mean, honestly. What’s not to like? Pussies are such fun.”
“Nick.” Her fingers clawed at his arms. There’d be marks later.
He grinned and she growled.
“All hot and wet and juicy. And each one tastes different. And looks different.”
He liked it when she growled. Maybe he liked it a little too much. His body seemed fine-tuned to her every reaction. His cock, of course, poked her in the hip and she had to notice, no matter how mad she was.
And yeah, she did notice. Her eyes narrowed, homing in on his face. As if it was his fault.
He just shrugged. “Look at yourself. You’re all over me. It’s confusing for my dick. We don’t know what you want.”
Her mouth fell open. “Are you actually talking about your dick in the first person?”
“You can give it a name if you like.”
“‘Inadequate’?” Her hand made a swipe for the book. “Oh, no. ‘Piteous’.”
“There’s no need to be nasty.”
“‘Pathetic’,” she crowed, well pleased with herself.
Such a smartass, was Roslyn.
Which was when he decided to play too.
Nick flicked his wrist and sent the diary skimming across the floor, safely out of the way. In one smooth move he flipped her off him and onto her back, straddling her in two seconds flat. Three at the most. Another second to slip a knee between her legs, and then he lay exactly where she didn’t want him, not ever, according to the look on her face. Her lips parted and her eyes flashed fire, most definitely not friendly. Her hands shoved at his shoulders and her head turned from side to side, searching for an exit.
“Get off me,” she said.
“I think we need to get something straight.” He grabbed her wrists and drew them out of the way, nice and safe on the pillow above her head. The first press of his hard-on between her legs had her back flattening and butt shifting, desperate to get away. His hips pressed down, holding her in place.
“Stop it,” she said.
“So Tim wouldn’t go down on you and Brandon couldn’t get you off, hmm?” He gave her a grim smile and rocked against her, rubbing against her pussy. Only the thin material of his sweatpants and the even thinner flannel of her pajama bottoms stood between them. “What did you expect, with a name like ‘Brandon’?”
“Because ‘Nick’ is so manly.”
He’d have laughed if his dick wasn’t killing him. “Why do you think you never stayed with any of them for more than five minutes? What’s your take on that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get off me.” Her hips shuffled sideward, o
r attempted to, but she wasn’t escaping him. Next she dug in her heels and tried to push him off. All that did was open her legs up more to him. The sudden hike in her brows when she realized it was priceless. “Don’t.”
“Two, three dates and you lost interest.”
“Or they did. Stop, damn it.” Her hand flailed for the headboard but that wouldn’t help her either. “Nick.”
“You think they lost interest?”
“Generally that’s what it means when people don’t text you back or ask you out again.”
“Why?”
She shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she still wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know the right things to say.”
“Hmm. Maybe. But none of them really did it for you, anyway.” He stared at her pretty, screwed-up face, thinking it over. “Even Craig the footballer didn’t turn you on, despite the hot body.”
“Much like you, Nick,” she sneered, all bravado. Pity he didn’t believe it for a minute. He was getting to her. The nipples poking into his chest and the way her body had begun to vibrate beneath him confirmed it. “Get the fuck off me.”
“That sounded like a challenge to me.”
Panic filled her eyes. “No. No, it wasn’t.”
“Mm.”
Back and forth he stroked her with the length of his hard cock. So good he could barely believe it. Molten heat poured through him. He wanted to close his eyes, savor the moment, but he didn’t. Ros stared back at him in dawning horror, which seemed to be her go-to look with him. Never mind. He was determined to make her feel lots of other things. Good things, starting now.
“Those morons didn’t know the first thing about pleasing you,” he said. “They let you down, didn’t they?”
The woman slammed her eyes shut, locking him out. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t shut out his voice.
“I won’t disappoint you, Ros. I won’t let you down.”
Her breath hitched, loudly, followed fast by the clench of her jaw. His mind reeled, trying to take her in. Talk about sensory fucking overload. The feel of her soft breasts caught between them, cushioning his chest, and the tease of her hard nipples. No amount of material could hide them. She smelled so good. If she’d have let him, he’d have stripped her out of those ugly, bulky clothes and licked her from top to toe. Rubbed himself against her, skin to skin. Blood rushed to his throbbing cock, as if he wasn’t hard enough. But skin to skin wasn’t happening. Not yet.
Her voice tightened and her wrists tugged against his hold. “Nick.” She licked her lips and her gaze roved again from side to side, looking for an out. “Wait. Listen to me.”
“No. You’re not talking me out of this.”
Already he could have come. Heat licked up his spine and the sensation grew, deep in his gut. No. This was all about her, but the pressure and the friction were perfect. His balls inched higher and his blood surged hot. He pressed his knees into the mattress, working himself against her, watching her carefully to gauge her reaction. Neither too hard nor too gentle worked best. Could have sworn he could smell her sweet cunt, her arousal. Because she was aroused, there was no hiding it.
“You had polite sex with Craig, because you thought you should. Sounds bloody awful,” he said. “I’ll make you a promise here and now that we are never having polite sex. Over my dead body.”
“You have to stop,” she pleaded, body arching beneath him, writhing against the mattress. Because her body knew what her mind didn’t want to admit. And he read her body perfectly.
God, he’d been watching her constantly for weeks now, learning her. Watching the way she touched herself, whether it was wrapping her arms around her chest or pushing back her hair. All the little expressions she made. She thought too much. Her diary confirmed it. Those other idiots she’d let touch her hadn’t been able to get her in the moment. Hadn’t really tried or had lacked the patience. He wouldn’t make the same mistake.
“You’ve been pretty stressed lately. I think you need this,” he said, sounding far calmer than he felt. Her breathing sped up and he could see her pulse, beating hard in the side of her slender neck. That pulse point right there beneath the skin. Nothing could stop him from kissing her there, from pressing his lips lightly against it over and over. If anything had happened to her before he’d come along … No, he couldn’t afford to think like that. She was safe now and she’d stay safe. “I missed you yesterday. You have no idea how much.”
Her teeth sunk deep into her lip.
“You can trust me with this, Roslyn. Turn off that clever mind of yours and let me get you there.”
She shook her head furiously.
“Yes.”
Her body bucked beneath him, still fighting. Soft curves pushed at him, struggling to get free. She was insane to think this wouldn’t work between them. There was no hiding the flush working up her neck, the gasp when he nuzzled the sweet spot below her ear. He barely touched her and she lit up for him. Skin to skin, there’d be no end to what they could do.
“You feel so good. Even like this, with clothes between us,” he murmured.
Elbows knocked against his arms as she fought him.
“I’m not letting go. Fight me all you want.” He dragged his mouth over her jaw. With a gasp she jerked her head back, pressing it into the pillow, unintentionally presenting him with the sexiest ear in creation and more of the smooth sensitive skin of her neck beneath. He couldn’t get enough of her. Having her stretched out beneath him was amazing. A heavy petting session with this woman outdid anything that he’d done before.
He made circular motions with his hips, studying her face to gauge her reaction. Fuck, she was pretty. Her jaw dropped and her knees clenched at his sides, holding onto him despite herself.
“There we go,” he reassured her.
She made a small noise, a lot like a sob, and her chin wrinkled.
Shit, no. Tears was cheating. “Ros …”
“Fine! You can turn me on.” Shiny eyes stared back at him and two bright spots of color sat high on her cheeks. “You win. Happy now?”
It didn’t exactly feel like a win.
He stopped dead and held still, breathing hard. His dick throbbed unhappily. “Is me making you feel good so terrible?”
She nodded tightly and stared at the front doors, forehead scrunched up. He wanted to smooth the soft skin with his fingers. Comfort her. Only one thing, however, would make her feel better.
Shit. Damn. Fuck.
Nick placed a kiss on her neck. He took a deep breath and let her go straight to his head. Who knew when she’d let him get this close again.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll stop. Look at me, Roslyn.”
She hesitated, but he waited. This was, after all, a waiting game. One he intended to win.
Eventually she turned back to him with a wary look. “What?”
This time, when he kissed her, he did it slowly with his eyes wide open. Carefully he angled his head and lowered his lips to hers. He stopped once they were touching. She stared back at him, not moving an inch, face frowning but not turning away. Not rejecting him. Yet. Who knew why? It didn’t matter. He kissed her again and again, pressing his lips gently to hers and watching her all the while. It felt mildly religious or something. It felt important. He didn’t rub his dick against her. Not even a little, despite his balls aching like bloody murder. He wasn’t ruining this for anything.
She exhaled and her lips opened slightly. A tiny sigh escaped. Ideally he’d have her sighing in ecstasy, but this seemed closer to relief.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He kissed her again, just her bottom lip this time. Such a succulent bottom lip; he’d love to take a bite of her. The idea of biting had never occurred to him with other women, but Roslyn was special.
“I’m kissing you,” he said.
“Oh.” A frown flickered briefly across her face. At some stage she’d stopped scowling. Gradually her body relaxe
d beneath his. Hands no longer fought his hold. “I thought you were going to get off me.”
“Soon,” he agreed.
She gave him her curious face, her brows hunched in. “I’m not kissing you back.”
“Yeah.” He kissed her again. The side of her mouth, where top and bottom lip met. “I know.”
“Are you trying to prove another point?”
“No.” Lightly he brushed his lips over her cupid’s bow. “I’m just kissing you.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Mm.”
Restlessly her hips shifted against the bed, accidentally rubbing against him. His cock pulsed, jabbing at the top of his sweatpants, wanting out. Or, more accurately, wanting in. God help him. What a ridiculous situation. He choked back a laugh. Fact was, he could probably come just from kissing her. It would take longer. But it could be done.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I was laughing at myself.”
The woman tucked her chin in, drawing back from his wandering mouth. “Why?”
“You know, I’ve met two-year-olds who ask fewer questions than you.”
“You had kids?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t have kids. Never been married, either.”
She digested this information with a slow nod. No smartass comment was made.
“We could get married,” he suggested with a smile.
“We are not getting married. Don’t be stupid.” Her scowl deepened. “Why were you laughing at yourself?”
“Well.” He sighed and leaned in, brushed his nose against hers. “I was thinking I could come just from kissing you. Wanna give it a go?”
“No.” Her stomach rumbled loudly. “I’m hungry.”
“I heard.”
“Offering me your cock as a source of sustenance would be a bad idea.” The top corner of her upper lip rose to expose her teeth, like he needed the hint.
“Guess it would.” He grinned.
“Get off me, Nick.”
“In a minute.”
“Nick.”