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I snorted. “I noticed you didn’t say you could actually satisfy them. You probably are capable of pawing them, but not much more than that.”
The visual for that whole scenario wasn’t exactly pleasant, so I made a face and shut down the image of Dylan petting a harem of women.
He let out a low, throaty sound as he moved toward me. “You know nothing about me. I don’t really think I even care anymore who you are. I just want you to leave. I don’t even know why I’m having this unpleasant conversation with you. I don’t give a damn what you think. Go. And take that miserable excuse for a hound with you.”
I tilted my chin up as he got close enough to grab me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Dylan started to crowd me, so I stepped back, even though I didn’t really want to back down.
Really, he wasn’t terribly skinny, and he was extremely tall. I was five foot seven, over the average height for a female, but Dylan towered over me. I didn’t like his menacing expression, either.
With my back against the wall, I put my palm out to keep him from moving any closer. “Back off.”
Dylan smirked as he took another step closer. “Could it be that you’re only brave from a distance, Red?”
God, I hated it when people made fun of my hair. “Fuck off, Lancaster.”
“Is that an invitation?” His voice became low and seductive.
I wouldn’t say I was afraid of Dylan Lancaster, but I was more uneasy with this new, provocative Dylan than I had been with the asshole.
He’s trying to throw me off-balance. The bastard is trying to make me nervous.
I met his gaze and refused to look away, even when he placed his palms against the wall, trapping me between his arms.
“It’s not even close to an invitation.” I scoffed. “I wouldn’t screw you if you were the last man on Earth, and my hormones were running rampant.”
I’d be damned if I’d back down from someone like Dylan Lancaster. He was a man-whore, a spoiled rotten billionaire who treated women like their only purpose was sex, and to plump his already over-inflated ego.
“Is that right, Red?” His deep baritone was captivating now.
I took a breath and released it slowly, determined not to give an inch. Unfortunately, I realized that Dylan had been right. He definitely didn’t stink. His scent was musky, masculine, and he exuded something that reminded me of sex, sin, and hot, sweaty nights of carnal pleasure.
Shit!
“Get off me, Lancaster,” I insisted, never allowing my gaze to waver.
“I’m not on you yet, Red,” he answered huskily.
I was wrong about his eyes!
I froze as I noticed that his irises were darker and filled with something that looked like…sheer, unadulterated lust.
Holy shit!
“Last chance. Back the fuck off.” I hated the fact that my voice sounded slightly panicked.
I was honest enough with myself to admit that it wasn’t fear that was making me edgy.
It was Dylan’s eyes, his sexy British accent, and the way that he was looking at me right now.
I could handle the asshole.
I wasn’t so sure about the sexy Brit persona.
I took another deep breath, and then bit back a groan as I was overwhelmed by Dylan’s I-want-to-fuck-you-into-multiple-orgasms scent.
He lowered his head until I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips. Those puffs of air smelled minty and fresh, making me want to grab him by the hair and yank his head down until I could taste that hint of peppermint on my tongue.
