Tell Me You're Mine (The British Billionaires #1) - J. S. Scott Page 0,107

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.

“What are you going to do if I kiss you, Red?”

“Don’t do it,” I warned him.

No matter how much my body was clamoring for Dylan’s touch, I wasn’t about to let this asshole manhandle me like he’d done with countless women before me. Dylan Lancaster was playing with me. I was simply his…entertainment.

He grinned, and the action lit up his entire face. “Now that sounds like a challenge,” he said.

I pushed against his chest. “It’s not,” I snapped.

My entire body tightened as his mouth landed on mine, and his lips coaxed me to respond.

For a moment, I couldn’t fight the attraction, and I opened, allowing Dylan’s lazy but thorough exploration.

My arms snaked around his neck, and I answered every blatant caress of his tongue.

He teased.

He tempted.

He tantalized.

And oh, my God, the man could provoke a reaction from an inanimate object with a kiss as sinful as his.

Kylie! What the fuck are you doing? He’s a male slut, and you know it!

I squeaked as I tried to move away from temptation by turning my head, and breaking lip contact. “Let go of me.”

Dylan’s body stayed exactly where it was, and he tried to connect our mouths again.

If he doesn’t move, I’m screwed. I’d let myself get sucked right back under his spell again.

So I did what I’d already thought about doing earlier.

My knee came up in a quick motion of desperation, and connected directly with my target.

“Fuck!” Dylan let out a groan as he let me go. “Bloody hell! Why did you do that?”

I scrambled away from the wall, and moved until there was nothing behind me but air. I watched Dylan as he clung to his family jewels, and sucked air in and out of his lungs like it was the most difficult task he’d ever done.

“I told you to let go.” Honestly, I did feel a little bit guilty. I had led him on. A little. Not on purpose, but my hormones had gone from zero to overdrive in less than a second when he’d kissed me.

It had taken my brain a little longer to catch up.

“You wanted that as much as I did,” Dylan accused.

“You caught me off guard,” I argued. “And then I remembered that you were a man-whore, and I definitely didn’t want it. I didn’t knee you that hard. It could have been worse. You’re still a baritone.”

Dylan’s breathing evened out, but his hand was still protectively holding his junk. “I don’t give a fuck who you are—leave this house. Now.”

I shook my head. “Not happening, big guy. We never really got around to introductions, but I’m Kylie Hart. My best friend is going to be marrying your brother in approximately six