“Dammit. There I was, concocting one last plan to hook Channing Tatum.”
“He’s got nothing on me, baby girl.” He means it, too. And he’s right. “I’m one of a kind, and so are you, and that’s why we make total sense together.”
“A.K.A., we’re both kind of fucked up, but when you put us together, all our broken edges kind of…mesh together.”
“Broken edges are that way because they’re looking for the piece that can fix them. We fix each other, even if we have to jiggle about a bit until we do.” He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles.
“I’m glad you think that way.” I curl my fingers around his cheek. “Because I want to meet your parents tomorrow. And tell them.”
He pauses. “You mean that?”
“We’re stuck with each other now,” I say more softly, rubbing my thumb across his cheek as a sense of peace settles over me. “Don’t you think they should know they’re going to be grandparents?”
The smile that spreads across his face touches every part of me. “I agree completely. I’ll call in the morning. Dinner?”
I nod. “As long as I don’t have to cook. I don’t want to scare them off entirely.”
Tyler jabs some pasta with his fork. “At least it’s not hard.”
“Well, I figured it wouldn’t be fair to have both the pasta and your cock hard tonight.”
“That so?”
“Mhmm.” I take my hand back and eat, chewing slowly.
His eyes drop to my mouth when I flick my tongue out and over my lips. Then they darken and his jaw ticks at the same time that he stabs his fork into his dinner. Even his biceps flex, although I’m pretty sure that was a conscious movement. His eyes are still fixed on my mouth as I lift a forkful of pasta to it and close my lips around the food.
I slowly draw the fork out of my mouth. I know exactly what he’s thinking. He’s thinking that he wishes the fork were his cock.
He’s thinking about how I left him hanging not six hours ago in the middle of the park right before a shoot.
He’s thinking about his promise of making me pay for it.
And I’m thinking that he should hurry the hell up about it.
“Something wrong, honey?” I ask sweetly.
“That depends on what underwear you’re wearing,” he answers without batting an eyelid.
Now I’m fucked. “Red and black that don’t match.”
“Get changed. Now.”
“I’m eating dinner.”
“I don’t care. Get. Changed.”
I stand and walk around the table, pausing next to him. “Into what? A ball gown?”
His fingers close around my wrist and he tugs me into him. “Are you taking the piss, Liv?”
“You’ll have to explain your foreign English to me.”
He stands, his body emanating a heat I can feel everywhere. “Are you sassing me, Liv?”
“Ohhh,” I coo, stepping forward. I run a fingertip down his chest to the top of his pants. “Yes. I am. What are you going to do about it?”
His hand sharply connects with my ass. “You’re awfully cocky for someone about to be fucked so hard you’ll feel my cock inside you for a week.”
“And you’re awfully cocky for someone who has yet to get your cock inside me.” I skip backward out of his hold with a challenge in my eyes.
I know it’s there. I can feel it—it’s in my words and the way my hips sway as I leave the room. If it’s in every step, it’s in my eyes, too.
I run into my room and strip off my clothes. I open the drawer and pull out the pale-pink set—his favorite. My favorite.
The door opens before I can put it on and Tyler snatches it from my hands. He stands between me and the drawer, his breathing heavy and heated, and runs his eyes over me. They peruse my body, leaving no part untouched by his hot gaze.
Goose bumps coat my skin in the wake of his stare and heat sizzles across them. I shiver when his eyes hover at my bare, exposed pussy.
He trails his fingers from my shoulders, over my breasts, down my stomach, and finally to my hips. He grabs me quickly and pushes me back on the bed. Instead of screaming, I gasp, and he covers my body with his.
My legs, my hips, my breasts—he’s over them all, flat against me, his fingers in my hair and his mouth working mine.
“Fuck the underwear,” he mumbles, running his hands down my sides. They skim over my skin and set off a whole new round of charges.
His skin is like an electric current across mine, ignited only when we touch, sparking sensations in places I didn’t know I could feel. My fingertips are humming as they travel up his back, and there’s a level of material between us.
Material I want gone.
Material I’m smart enough not to ask about.
I know who’s in control here. I know who’s holding the strings and who’s tugging them. It isn’t me—it never is. It’s always him, playing and yanking and teasing.
His mouth travels down my neck to my breast and he takes one nipple in my mouth. He pinches my breast from beneath, his thumb massaging the soft flesh, and he hums as he flicks his tongue over the hardened and extra-sensitive nipple.
I cry out, half in pleasure, half in pain. A sweet pain, one that twists my stomach in the best kind of way.
He turns his attention to my other nipple and I swear to fucking everything unholy that, if he keeps this shit up, I will come.
I put my fingers in his hair and tug in an effort to get his mouth away from my breasts. He grasps my wrists and holds my arms out wide, his longer arms holding mine steady despite a lame wriggle.
“I told you you would pay for what you did earlier. I don’t care how you writhe between me, Liv. I just care that you do. I’ll have you writhing all night until you finally come if that’s what it takes.”
He releases me now and bends down to the floor. He stands, my pair of pink panties in his hands, and a sexy grin takes his mouth.
My own drops open as he grabs my hands and secures them using the lace underwear. Holy. Shit. The man is a master of sexual manipulation.
He works the buttons of his shirt until it falls open, exposing his toned abdomen. He shrugs it off his shoulders and lets it fall to the floor with a quiet swish. The sight of him half naked before me is so teasing that I still entirely while he undoes his pants.
The pants follow the shirt until only his underwear remains, and I wish I could sit up and tug them off, too.