“That,” he continued. “And your fucking fantastic heart-shaped ass. Plus those legs of yours, so long I swear they could loop around me twice when I’m buried deep inside you.”
“Anything else?” I asked wryly, not sure whether to be complimented or insulted by his blatant objectification.
“Your hair. God, your hair. So thick, so soft. Next time you suck me off, baby, we aren’t doing it in the shower. I want to feel that silk falling all around me when I’m in your mouth.”
The mouth in question went utterly dry. I attempted a swallow, trying not to succumb to the furl of pleasure his words unearthed inside me. “Right. Um. Glad to know my body lives up to expectation.”
“Expectation? No.Fantasywould be closer.” His eyes were still glittery with heat. “Don’t act like you don’t like my body, too. Earlier, when you had my cock in your hands, you said I was the biggest—”
I slapped my hand over his mouth again, shooting him a warning glare. “Nobody likes a braggart!”
His grin against my palm was enough to make my heart turn over. When I pulled my hand away, he gazed into my face for a long time with thoughts working in his eyes, searching for an answer to a question he’d never got around to asking.
“What?” I whispered when I couldn’t take it anymore. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
With a start, his expression locked down, whatever he’d been thinking vanishing behind a mask instantly. Eyes carefully guarded, his smile was still sweet as he leaned in to nuzzle my neck. “You want to sleep here or in my bed?”
My body tensed. “Graham…”
“What?”
“I can’t stay.”
At my tone as well as my sudden tension, he pulled back from my neck, staring at me with both brows raised. His body had gone tense, too.
“You know I can’t stay here,” I whispered, not wanting to hurt him but needing to be honest. “I don’t sleep with other people.”
He stared at me some more.
“Ican’tsleep with other people,” I stressed. “You know this about me.”
The staring continued.
“I need to be home, in my own bed.”
More staring.
A hint of anger — an emotion I was highly familiar with when it came to Graham Graves — stirred to life inside me. It was faint, a mere trickle beneath the riptide of passion I’d been riding all day, but it was there. “Graham, I mean it. I’m worn out. I need you to take me home.”
“Can’t do that.”
My eyes narrowed and I pushed up on his chest, rising into a seated position on the sofa, the hint of anger strengthening into something more tangible. “Well, I’m not staying here.”
“You are,” he countered straight away.
Okay, the anger was more than tangible, now. Sliding off him completely, I gained my feet and paced several strides away from the couch so I could effectively glare down at him. This effort was undermined only slightly by the fact that I was naked as a jaybird.
“What do you mean,I am?” I yelled. “I just saidI’m notand, last I checked, I’m a grown woman who makes her own decisions!”
Graham sighed, ab muscles curling as he knifed up into an upright position and planted his bare feet on the rug. He too, I might add, was naked as a jaybird.
“I see sleepy, sweet Gwen has left the building,” he muttered.
“Sleepy, sweet Gwen doesn’t stick around for autocratic, overbearing Graham!”
His eyes flashed, not with humor or desire but with something I was far more accustomed to seeing when he directed them at me — irritation. “You might not want to stay here tonight, but I frankly don’t give a fuck about your hangups. Your neighbor was killed today. You’re a goddamned target. You’re staying put. Get used to it.”
The reminder of Eliza admittedly took a little bit of the wind out of my sails, but truth be told I was more fixated on his other comment.