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“You’re pretty slick, aren’t you?” she says, her voice soft as butter.
I lick my lips, about to tell her she’s too damn close.
“Not slick. Just truthful.”
“Really?”
She leans closer, her body language changing. Opening.
“Really.”
“You’re full of surprises, Mr. Hayden Tanner.” She smiles. “Or, as I like to think of you, Mr. Sexy Eyes.”
“Ada,” I croak out, warning her.
I can’t take much more of her teasing. Which is exactly what she’s doing right now, teasing me. Tormenting me. But I made a promise, and this time I will not budge. I won’t reach for her. Or pull her bikini-clad body toward me. I won’t kiss her senseless. But by God, I want to do all of it.
23
Ada
Ishould be punished for this.
By now I know enough about Hayden Tanner to believe he was being sincere in his apartment, that he felt genuinely terrible for breaking his promise not to touch me.
He has flaws, certainly, but dishonesty isn’t one of them. For all his bravado, this is a man of character, or at least one who desperately wants to be a man of character. So I also know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he will not touch me unless I ask him to.
Which I plan to do. But I don’t plan to give him the go-ahead to do what he wants until I take whatIwant.
When he took off his robe, I nearly passed out. No man has a right to a body like that if he’s busy building an empire. Not to mention that he eats meatball subs twice a week. I dated a bodybuilder once, so I know the discipline required to get all those ridges. I mean, abs are great and all, but eating dry protein powder from a ziplock just isn’t for me. I don’t feel the need to look like I’m being paid to be on the cover of a magazine.
Nope. No, thank you.
But Hayden? He’s beyond gorgeous. He looks like a Greek god.
I reach out and touch him.
“Ada, you’re killing me,” he says, his voice strangled.
I start with that forearm he’s always taunting me with, rolled shirtsleeves and all. Running my hand upward, the slick wetness making it easy and extra sensual, I rest my palm on his shoulder.
“Mr. Sexy Eyes.”
I move closer so that our bodies are very nearly touching.
“I love that you look at me when we’re talking.” He’s doing it right now. “I’ve never noticed it before, but most people don’t keep eye contact.”
“They don’t.”
“So why do you?”
I let my second hand mimic the first, his left arm just as hard and unrelenting.
“I like to know what the other person is really thinking. Words can be manipulated. I don’t always trust them.”
“Don’t always?” I laugh. “Do you ever trust them?”
I inch forward. One more step and my breasts will press against his chest.
