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“You’ll live,” she responds smartly, somehow managing to be caustic while nearly dazed with pleasure.
Brat.
Without a word, I reach between our bodies, fist the crotch of her thong, and pull it as hard as I can. The seams strain against the force of my hand, snapping. It tears but remains intact, scraping her perfect skin in the process and making Julia inhale sharply through her teeth. Shit. Red marks dot her hips, which I regret. She wiggles with discomfort, her supple skin now indented by the harsh line of her stretched and fraying panties. Ruthlessly, I yank again, succeeding in ripping the thong clean off her this time.
Julia’s jaw drops and she breathes fast, chest heaving. Silently, she stares in horror at the tattered remains of her underwear in my clenched fist.
“You ruined them,” she blurts out, disbelief making her voice scratchy.
“You’ll live.”
Oh, she hates that. “You’re a caveman.” She attempts to snatch the thong from my hand, but I hold it out of her grasp. A tight expression of annoyance crosses her pretty face. “Give it back.”
“Hell no.”
“Give it back,” she presses, trying and failing to grab it once again. “I’m not letting you keep a trophy from me.”
“I’ll return it after we fuck for real.” I twist the damp lace around my fingers, weaving the fabric between them. “And we will fuck, Julia, like we agreed we would. Based on the way you moved just now, I can only imagine how much fun we’ll have.”
Eyes narrowed into slits, she tightens her lips together. “Fine,” she concedes. “You creep.”
“Says the woman who took off all her clothes and rubbed one out on my lap while I watched.”
She lets out an exaggerated gagging sound before she pushes off of me. Without a word, she saunters out of the living room and down the hall naked, like she owns the place.
“Where are you going?” I call after her, grateful for the view of her perky ass swinging.
“To sleep,” she declares, her voice growing more distant. “Fuck off.”
***
“What am I doing here?” a voice demands in the darkness.
Startled, I blink awake and find Julia shoving her hand into my bare shoulder. Her curtain of blond hair frames her face while she jabs at me with her fingertips, like she doesn’t want to touch me—like she didn’t let me watch her climax spectacularly earlier tonight.
Groaning, I pick up my phone from the nightstand. It’s after midnight. Wine is making my head throb, but a headache is nothing compared to the irate twenty-eight-year-old in my bed who won’t stop poking me.
“Sleeping.” I try to pull her back to the space next to me. “You’re sleeping, Ridgeway.”
“In your bed.” She gestures around my bedroom. “I fell asleep in a different room.”
“And I wanted you here,” I answer firmly, “so I put you in my bed. Now go to sleep.”
“You moved me? You asshole. I don’t—”
“You don’t spend the night with men?” I guess, making easy assumptions. “And I don’t let women who look as good as you sleep with a wall between us. You’re staying here.”
“The hell I am—” She starts shimmying towards the edge of my king-size mattress.
“You’re staying,” I repeat, pulling her back to me. “A few minutes ago, you were sleeping soundly. Hell, when I brought you in here an hour ago, you started out all the way over there, and then snuggled me on your own.”
She scoffs. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”
“Oh really? Your perfect little body was rubbing up against me. You were so aroused, I could practically feel it in the air. So get over here and sleep where your body clearly wants to.”
My comment strikes a nerve and Julia shoves me away with a hard blow to my shoulder. “You don’t know anything about my body.”
I catch her hand and hold it, knowing how much it probably bothers her. “I know what you look like when you come,” I reply, caressing her thumb with mine. “You’re astounding, by the way. You do this thing with your back where you arch it and your nipples point right up at the ceiling. Fucking masterpiece, really.”
