I can’t stand another moment without being inside you.” He shrugged, oh-so-casually, like he hadn’t cranked up the temperature a hundred degrees. “Up to you.”
She slid her gaze to the window. Where it was safe. Because the last thing she needed was to get all hot and bothered over him. He played a good game—she’d give him that—but she didn’t want to play games. And she really didn’t want to get played. Still, an electrical need made a shameless tour of her body, pooling low in her belly. Her chances of eradicating it were pegged at zero, so she settled for smoothing her skirt. The above-the-knee length felt a little scandalous now that he had her picturing herself up against a wall, but it was too late to change anything now.
Too late to back out, for sure.
She glanced at Sawyer. He met her gaze immediately, the connection impossibly physical. She swallowed. Hard.
“I’m surprised you dance,” she said as they crossed the Manhattan Bridge. Low clouds reflected the city lights, leaving a bright haze over the mirror-bright surface of the water.
He stared steadfastly ahead, not glancing once at the glittering view of the city reflecting far below. “Why is that?” he asked.
“Too much foreplay, maybe?”
He laughed. “I never thought of it that way, but you’re right that I don’t waste much time on foreplay. I just make sure the actual act counts.”
She didn’t ask what he meant—elaboration on this topic would prove dangerous—and the rest of the ride passed in silence. When they arrived at the club, Sawyer paid the driver and helped her out of the car. They bypassed a long line full of beautiful people, no questions asked. She felt like a celebrity. And kind of like a jerk.
Inside, in the near dark, music blasted, the beat vibrating deep in her chest. Conversation would be impossible, which might be a good thing if not for one simple fact: she had no doubt Sawyer was fluent in the kind of communication that didn’t require words.
And that was dangerous.
He took her hand and led her straight to the bar, dropping a couple of bro nods along the way. Clearly, as promised, he knew the place. He helped her onto a tall bar chair, then sat next to her. “What do you drink?” he asked. Or, rather, mouthed against her ear. His lips made actual contact, driving deep in her the need to find a date with pretty much anyone else and end this thing with Sawyer.
Drinking took a close second.
“Something fruity,” she half yelled.
“Jack and Coke for me and something fruity for the lady,” Sawyer said to the bartender.
She barely heard over the thump of the music. Neon lights skirted the small dance floor, which was absolutely teeming with people. The drink appeared, and she took a small sip. It was delicious. She immediately felt the warmth of the liquor but didn’t taste the alcohol. She looked at Sawyer, intending to thank him, but he had his head turned, literally, to a redhead on the other side. The woman’s boobs lying on the bar were probably some kind of health violation, and if her skirt got any shorter, she’d need a hairnet to work in a cafeteria. Her bright red pout and matching Crayola-red dress were vibrant, but they made her hair look like a washed-out dye job. Naturally, Sawyer didn’t seem to mind.
What. Ever.
The woman quickly left, and Sawyer turned to Kelsie, probably to find her glaring. And she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she wanted Sawyer. She was using him, for heaven’s sake, and she’d yet to determine what exactly was in their deal for him. Because he was so not having sex.
She put her hand on his arm, and immediately he leaned close. Clearly the touching thing worked. Problem was, it was working on the wrong man, and she liked it a little too much. “How am I supposed to meet someone,” she said in his ear, “when I can’t hear to have a conversation?”
He looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight. “Body language,” he murmured. “Finish your drink.”
“Right now?”
He tipped his glass, then emptied it in one long swallow. When he was done, he set it down and waved off another. Then he pulled her in again. “You can’t leave it on the bar, so yes.”
She studied him, but had zero luck reading his expression. “If you want to go…with someone else, you don’t have to babysit me.”
“Sweetheart, if what I’m about to