Call him weird, but that princess-to-peasant look made him want to bend her over his office desk. His cock jerked, all for that idea.
It goddamn rankled that she looked so completely unruffled by the snap of sexual attraction that had him in a tight grip. His body was hot, hard, and aching. She was cool as a fucking cucumber. The whole thing clawed at his beast’s ego just the same.
Needing some sort of reaction from her, Alex asked, “You never told anyone, did you?”
She frowned. “Never told anyone what?”
He let his eyes drop to her lips. “That I know exactly how fucking sweet that mouth tastes.”
CHAPTER TWO
Bree stilled. In all the years since it happened, he’d never brought up the kiss. Never. Neither had she, because she’d known he regretted it.
“Oh, that,” she said airily, determined to play it cool.
He blinked. “Oh. That?”
Well, to be fair, it wasn’t a big deal—they hadn’t been the only people who’d indulged in a few stolen kisses that night. It had been her eighteenth birthday party. Most of the pride had been shitfaced. She’d caught Alex watching her. The more he drank, the less subtle he’d been about it. Shortly after she’d finished a slow dance with another guy, Alex had discretely dragged her into a dark corner and closed his mouth over hers.
“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?” he asked.
Well, she’d been horribly embarrassed that he shoved her away afterward like she was on fire. Elle knew about it, though, since she’d caught them. But he didn’t need to know that.
“It didn’t seem relevant,” replied Bree.
“It didn’t seem relevant?” he echoed, affronted.
She forced a casual shrug. “It was just a kiss.”
“It was more than a kiss. I distinctly remember you riding my thigh until you came. Or did you forget that part?”
“No, I didn’t forget. I also didn’t forget how fast you disappeared afterward. Oh, and there was the pushing-me-away part, like I’d thrown myself at you or something.”
“You were only eighteen. Far too young for the things I had in mind.” His eyes darkened. Heated. Flashed with something that made her stomach twist. “I wanted to flip up the little dress you were wearing, shove my cock inside you, and fuck you against the wall until you screamed for me.”
“Really? How vanilla of you.”
Surprise flitted across his face.
He’d expected her to, what, blush and stammer and avert her gaze? Bree sighed. “Look, we all do crazy stuff when we’re smashed—”
“You think I was blitzed that night? If that were the case, you would have spent the rest of that party with my come inside you.”
She really wished her feminine parts would stop tingling every time he said stuff like that. She blamed that deep, gritty voice—it was seduction itself. “That’s assuming I would have let it get that far.”
“Oh, that’s exactly what would have happened if I had been plastered that night, baby girl—don’t think differently. You still make that husky little noise right before you come?”
“Probably.” She folded her arms. “Is there a reason we’re reminiscing about something you like to pretend didn’t happen? Of course, I understand why you like to keep the memory in a locked box at the back of your mind. I mean, how else are you going to keep convincing yourself that I’m just family to you?”
Clenching his teeth, he lowered his head so that their mouths were mere inches apart. “You want me to say it? You want me to admit that I’ve jacked off to the thought of fucking you more times than I can count?” His nostrils flared. “I want you. I want to feel your pussy wrapped around my dick. I want to watch you explode while I’m buried deep inside you. There. I said it.”
It took her hungover mind a few seconds to really digest his words. When the import of them finally hit her, she almost rocked back on her heels. The fuck? There was no denying that it had been a super weird day so far.
Her engines would have been well and truly revved at the sound of his rumbly confession if it wasn’t for one thing: he clearly resented that he wanted her. Nice. “You’ll never do anything about it, though, will you?”
He clenched his teeth again. “One night in your bed wouldn’t cut it for me. I’d want more. I’d take more.”
Her heart leaped. “More” could mean a lot of things—a fuck-buddy arrangement, a short but intense fling, or even something serious. Each of those possibilities sounded intriguing to her, but apparently not to him, because … “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I’ve seen you with guys, Bree. You always have them securely wrapped around your little finger while you lead them on a merry dance—it’s not something you set out to do, they just tend to give you your own way. Me? I won’t be led anywhere by anyone, and I definitely don’t fucking dance. You’ve never been involved with one of my kind, but you’ve seen how we are in relationships—doesn’t matter if it’s casual or serious, we don’t make easy partners. The things a man like me would demand of you … You’re not ready for something like that.”