He pulled at his hair, “There’s nothing to explain.”
“Then this ...”—I waved between us—“there’s nothing to it and you need to leave.”
He took a step forward and I found that although he maintained his look, I could see the anger underneath that he hid from others so well. It was like my body was now fully aware of him after he got me off.
I absolutely hated it.
“I’m not leaving just because I visit your father, Whitfield. You can’t deny what just happened between us.”
I matched his stance and took a step forward. “Nothing really happened. Me getting off isn’t out of the norm, L.P.”
“Don’t act like that was a common occurrence, Whitfield,” he warned.
“Get out of my apartment.” I kept my voice even, trying like hell to get him out before I did something stupid like agree with him.
He ran his tongue between his lips and teeth, contemplating and calculating.
I didn’t have time for it. I wanted him out. “Get out!” I yelled right in his face, too drained to question my control or sanity.
He licked his lips and I made the stupid mistake of flicking my gaze down to watch rather than holding his stare. Just the tip of that tongue, I knew, held so much talent, and suddenly I was aching between my legs all over again.
The mouth I stared at relaxed into a half-smirk. “You sure you want me to leave?”
I snapped my eyes away from his mouth, realizing I’d been caught. “I am fully capable of finding someone else and pointing out all of my sensitive spots to them, Jax. I don’t need you here to get me off.”
His eyes bulged and mine probably did also. I couldn’t believe I’d just blurted that out.
He shook his head and backed away like I’d gone too far. “You’ll pay for that.”
Was it bad that later that night, I couldn’t control fantasizing about paying for it while I laid in bed all by myself?