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“It’s supposed to. Just a gentle reminder of who’s calling the shots around here, despite what you may think, while you trot around with your little camera and hide behind your keyboard.”
“So you’re saying that you can touch me, but I can’t touch you, is that it?”
“Not exactly. Not all touches are created equally, are they?” The bright gleam in his inky almost-black eyes left no doubt as to his meaning, not that I had any.
He moved closer again, but I resisted the urge to step back. Though I wanted nothing more than to put some distance between us, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was succeeding in making me feel uncomfortable. I had no idea if that made me brave, or just stupid, or a deadly combination of both. Still, I held my ground, and hoped for the best.
“For example,” he carried on, “this”—he stroked my cheek gently with his free hand, leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of the invisible line created by his index finger—“isn’t the same as this.” He pressed his lips down to mine, taking me totally by surprise, but withdrawing them almost as quickly as he’d placed them there.
“Just like this”—he reached out, mirroring the knocking action I’d attempted on the side of his head, though didn’t actually make contact with my skin—“is absolutely nothing like”—he lowered the arm that was still holding mine in the air, and, squashed my hand against his rock hard erection— “this. Is it?”
I didn’t acknowledge he’d spoken, and certainly didn’t give hm the satisfaction of knowing I’d registered the bulge in his pants.
“So the bottom line is that it’s not who’s doing the touching, but how. That said, you try to knock me upside my head like that again, and it won’t be pretty. We clear?”
Again, I didn’t engage, knowing that my silence would piss him off. Instead, I stared dead ahead at his chest and tried not to think about how deliciously toned and well-defined it was.
I definitely didn’t want to think about the piercing I knew was gracing one of his nipples. He was the first guy I’d been with who’d had one, and I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t turn me on beyond belief. Possibly because he was probably the last guy I’d ever have figured would have had one.
Still holding my hand in his, Bear used his free hand to tilt my chin, getting in my face as I tried to avoid eye contact. When I closed my eyes, he stood unmoving, with his finger resting under my chin. The weight of his stare bore down on my face, and I felt increasingly self-conscious just standing there while he had free rein to ogle me to his heart’s content.
Reluctantly, I opened my eyes, and sure enough, he was staring at me just as I suspected he would be.
“I said: Are. We. Fucking. Clear?”
“Fuck you.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself. Your place, this time, let’s go.”
Chapter 19
Bear
She looked at me as though I was the village idiot’s simple-minded cousin.
“You’re insane. I’d rather hop into bed with Satan himself than go anywhere with you.” It sounded good in theory, but in practice, I didn’t think she was telling the whole truth, not to me, or to herself.
“I’m glad for you that you’re planning on going into journalism when you’re done here, rather than being a lawyer or card shark, because I gotta tell you, your poker face ain’t for shit. Look me in the eye, and tell me you’re not wet right now.”
“What?”
“Is there something wrong with your hearing?”
“No, I heard you, I just mean what the hell kind of question is that?”
“It’s a pretty simple question, actually, and one designed to expose you in the lie that is written not only all over your face—especially in your heated cheeks—but all over your body. You said you’d rather suck the devil’s dick than go anywhere near mine, and I’m calling bullshit. So prove me wrong—and don’t lie, because I will know. Tell me you’re not wet for me right now.”
She fidgeted like a kid at the principal’s office, looking everywhere but at me. She was such a soft target sometimes—she made it too easy for me to trip her up.
I leaned forward and spoke quietly into the nape of her neck, noting how her body quivered slightly against mine.
“Just as I thought. Bad luck for Beelzebub, that lady boner you’re sporting has my name written all over it.”
She snatched her hand away from mine—I had been beginning to wonder if she would ever retrieve it—and pushed away from my chest.
“You’re such an asshole.”
“We established this fact some time ago, and you won’t hear any denials from me.”
