Also his words.
But now that I think of them, I realize I wouldn’t mind finding out how easy she is to get off…
God damn it, Antonio. Pull your shit together.
“Just wondering what you found so interesting that you had to stop and stand there staring at me for a few minutes, that’s all.” Selena keeps her tone light and playful. But her eyes flash when they meet mine, challenging.
Oh, I’m up for that challenge, all right. “Just making sure you remembered everything I taught you,” I reply.
“Is that all?” She lifts her chin a little, still smiling.
This woman, I swear to god. But fine, if she wants to toy with me, two can play at this game. “That, and I was reconsidering what I told you about not wearing tight jeans.” As I say it, I kneel beside her, close enough to touch—although I don’t. Not yet. I want her to ask me for it. Beg me for it first.
It takes a second for my words to land. When they do, her face flushes again, that delicate red blush I’m coming to really enjoy breaking out across her freckled, normally pale cheeks. “That… I…” She huffs a breath out through her nostrils, and even pissed off as she looks now, or perhaps especially so, she’s sexy as fuck. “So you were staring at my behind.”
“Hard not to, with an ass like that.” I wink, and she goes, if possible, even redder. Who even knew human adults turned this color?
“That’s hardly proper, you know.”
God, I hate when she goes all little rich girl. Or maybe I love it. Or maybe hate and love aren’t too far apart from one another in my brain. Who knows? “I never said I was proper. You want a proper guy, go find some son of one of your daddy’s business partners to fuck.”
Her body goes still then, her chest heaving. But her eyes are glued to mine. Her lips part, just a little. Just enough for me to catch the motion as she darts her tongue across them. Fuck, I wish it were my tongue instead. Tasting her. I’ll bet she tastes every bit as good as she smells, damn it.
“I came here to work, not fuck,” she says, and at least her voice has regained its usual tough steel, even if her body’s still quivering.
I lean a little closer to her, brush my arm up against hers, just so that I can feel the way she’s quivering, strung taut with desire. Want.
I know the feeling. It’s driving me insane to be this close to her, too.
“Sure. Because I wear pants that tight to all my work encounters.” I eye her backside again, pointedly. Because fuck. It really is a nice ass.
Her eyes narrow. “I liked you better when you weren’t objectifying me.”
I grin. “Why, so you could objectify me instead?” To demonstrate, I lift one hand to run it through my hair. Her gaze drops to the hem of my shirt, before she can resist. I knew it would. She’s been doing it all day, every time I move or flex a muscle. Just… staring at me. Like she wants to take a bite.
Again. Same.
“I’m not objectifying you.”
“My bad. I thought that was a fancy word for ogling.”
She snorts and sits back on her heels to cross her arms over her chest. “If I can’t wear tight jeans, why is it fair for you to wear a practically see-through tank top, then?”
“First of all, I never said you couldn’t wear tight jeans. Just that they might be impractical when it came to working, but frankly, please do continue to wear ‘em. I don’t mind the view.” I tilt my head. “As for me, I don’t mind if you want to stare either. Look all you want.” I lean toward her, so close now that we’re sharing the same air. I catch her scent again, the way I’ve been doing all day. She smells floral, like sunlight and summertime, with just a hint of something minty on her breath. “You can even touch, if you’re a very good girl,” I add, my voice a low hum.
Since I’m this close, I catch the sound when she inhales. A faint little huff that nearly undoes me. I watch her pupils close up, see the way they fix on mine, dilating. There’s a long pause, the air between us thick with the tension. You could cut it with a knife right now, I swear.
Just when I start to lean back, to give her space, to go back to what we were doing… she grabs my tank top in a fist. And then, all in one motion, so fast I barely see it coming—and so forward that frankly, I didn’t think Miss Spoiled Little Rich Girl had it in her—she yanks me into her.