I wakeup after what feels like only a few hours of sleep. I shouldn’t be wide awake, but I can’t get comfortable. That kiss made me horny as fuck. Well, hornier than usual.
Crosby’s sleepy voice is inexcusably sexy. “Everything okay? Can I get you something?”
“I’m fine. I can’t sleep.”
He sighs heavily. “Same.”
There’s a brief pause, and then: “You know what would help you relax,” he starts.
“Sir,” I snap.
Crosby chuckles and rolls over to face me. He’s close enough that I can once again feel his breath against the back of my neck. “Admit it. We kiss good.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “But knowing how many other people you’ve kissed does damper things.”
He chuckles. “You have no idea how many others there have been. And why does that matter?”
“It doesn’t!”
“How many people have you slept with?”
I nudge him through the blankets with my foot. “That’s between me and my IUD. Certainly fewer than you. And if you think things are going to get any further, you are mistaken. I can’t be romantically involved with someone who….”
“Someone who what?”
Now, do I tell him what everyone says? Might as well. He doesn’t seem like he’d easily let his feelings get hurt. Is this the truth you blurt out at four a.m.? “Well, everyone says you’re a drug dealer.”
“Do they?”
“Yes.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Yes! I can’t date a drug dealer!”
“Who said anything about dating, Leela?”
“Then what is this about, Crosby? Why did you bid on me?”
Our bodies are still separated by blankets, but Crosby is spooned up behind me, his arms hugging me through the layers. The only point of contact is his lips that murmur into the hair over my ear.
“I bid on you for three reasons. One: to get your attention. Two: to pull you away from all those shitheads at the party. And three: because the contract terms oblige you to do anything I say, and I intend to hold you to that.”
My voice trembles when I say, “You don’t mean….”
He chuckles. “Oh, I mean.”
I can tell by his tone that he does intend to use this contract to do whatever he wants, including things that cause my innermost muscles to contract in revulsion. Revulsion, anticipation, and eagerness all wrapped up together. It’s hard to distinguish when I’m so turned on yet so repelled by his confidence level.
With his mouth still murmuring into my hair, Crosby moves a bit higher so his arm that encircles me. That hand covers the skin of my throat, triggering a gasp from me. It brushes slowly downward, dragging a warm palm over my cleavage.
Heat pools between my thighs.
“What do you want now?”
With no hesitation, he grits out, “Open the bathrobe and let me touch your tits.”
I scoff at the coarse word. Sure, I use it all the time, but that’s different. Still, an outrageous feeling of need suffuses me. Yes, I want to let him do that. And I’ll do it. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of an out loud, enthusiastic “yes.”