“O-oak,” I beg shakily. “Please.”
“Please what, sweetheart?”
“I have a date with Rowan,” I squeak as I slowly back away from him. It’s stupid; the guy is huge, blocking my exit, and—as I know from experience—crazy fast. I don’t stand a chance.
Yet still I run.
Oakley pounces and easily captures me with one arm, sending us both crashing down onto the bed. Before I can protest, he crushes my lips under his, his tongue demanding entry and taking control. He kisses me until I’m dizzy and lightheaded. I’m powerless to stop him.
“You look so fucking fine,” the sexy incubus growls in my ear, his warm breath sending shivers throughout my body.
“You want to get up? Say you’re coming home to me tonight. Say I can be the one to share your bed. Say I’m the only guy who will remove this dress from you later.”
I fucking groan, because I’m putty in his hands. New panties needed. Right now, I’d agree to sell my soul for more of what he’s teasing me with pressed between my thighs.
“Oak,” I gasp.
“Yes, sweetheart?” He grins down at me.
“I have to go,” I insist.
“You have promises to make first.”
“Okay! Fine! I promise.”
“Promise what?” He bites my neck and my hips jerk up to rub against his straining cock.
“I promise I’m coming home to you!” I cry.
As soon as the words leave my lips, cold air is caressing my overheated skin, and I can breathe in Oakley’s absence. He’s standing by my bedroom door grinning at me like the smug fucking cat that caught the canary.
“Good girl, Princess,” he says, and my face flames. Last week he took me to the hospital with him and the kids there took one look at me and decided I was the new princess, and Oakley had to be my knight in shining armour. I may have gotten into the role a little too much once we were home, and here he was, teasing me about it.
“Shut up,” I groan. “You just want to play the hero again.”
“Not at all. I’m quite looking forward to playing the villain who abducts and ruins the princess.”
His words make me shiver with longing. “Hurry up, sweetheart, Rowan sent me up to say you need to get going or you’re going to be late.”
“Asshole,” I mutter as I grab my bag, fix my bed head and stomp past him. As I pass, I elbow him for good measure, but that mostly just hurts me. Oakley roars with laughter with every step downstairs I take. Actual asshole.
I try to tell myself that I won’t be sleeping with him tonight, but we both know it’s bullshit.