A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,66
it, man,” he says, shaking his head, amused.
“You really like taking the piss out of me, don’t you?”
“I really, really do,” he admits. “Anyway . . . after meeting your dad, I can tell, too, why you resisted me at first.”
I laugh as I grab the now-dry dishes to put away. “What does that have to do with my dad?”
“He’s skeptical . . . like you.”
Fitz makes a fair point. “It’s the reporter in him,” I say. “He looks at everything from every direction.”
“You’re the same. You looked at me that way.”
And he’s hit the nail on the head. “Yes. I don’t trust easily. I don’t give in easily.” I set the last dish in the cupboard and shut the door.
“Because of your mom?”
I lean against the counter. “Because of my mum. Because of my dad. Because of everything. It’s better to be skeptical, to be sure of what you’re getting into.”
“I get that. I respect that. You like to check out all the angles.”
“Exactly. Know what they are. What I’m walking into.”
He runs his hand down my arm again, then over my abs, toying with the waistband of my jeans, tugging me closer. “So, tell me. Why did you give in to me? Is it only because I’m leaving?” His tone is more earnest than I’ve ever heard it. It’s hard to concentrate, though, with his hands on me.
“What do you think?” I ask, my fingers curling around his ass as I inch closer to telling him why I gave in.
Fitz shakes his head. “I think that’s the reason why you started, but it’s not why we’re here now.”
I know where he’s headed. I ought to steer this conversation in a safer direction, but I can’t seem to resist this path. I want our motives to be out in the open.
“What’s the reason you’re here, then?” I ask as I kiss his neck, nibbling and biting.
Fitz breathes out hard, rocking his hips against me. His moans grow louder as I kiss his jawline, his cheek, and then nibble on his earlobe, trying to tell him with my body, with my lips, with the way I kiss him that there are other reasons.
“What’s the reason?” I ask softly again. Then I bite his skin. “A pact?”
Fitz shakes his head.
“Last chance to get your rocks off?”
“You ass,” he growls.
I laugh. “You love my ass.”
“I do. I really fucking do. But that’s not why I’m here.” We’re tangoing closer and closer to the dangerous edge we’ve been resisting. I could make another joke about this crazy chemistry, and part of me wants to, because I’m having so much fun with him. But I don’t joke. This is no longer a fling. We both know it.
The man I’ve spent the last few nights with looks at me intensely, like this moment could tip into something much more than an interlude or an affair. Maybe it already has.
And because he’s taken so many steps to me, I make this one toward him. “Why are you in my home? Why are you having dinner with my dad? Why do you want to meet my friends?” They aren’t questions though. They’re statements about where we’ve found ourselves. His eyes never stray from mine as I run my thumb along his jaw, ready to be completely honest. “Maybe it’s because there’s much more here than chemistry. More than the hashtag Best-Sex-Ever effect.”
Fitz lets out a breath like I’ve freed him, like I’ve given him everything he needs. “So much more,” he echoes, his shoulders relaxing, his arms looping around my neck, and his lips zeroing in on mine as he repeats “You are so much more” against my mouth, kissing me.
I close my eyes as those words reverberate in my head. You are so much more.
They’re the chorus of a song, and they don’t stop playing, and we don’t stop kissing for a long time.
When he breaks the kiss, he says, “You know, sometimes talking to you is like leading a horse to water.”
“Are you going to make me drink?”
“I’d like to make you take my cock.”
“What do you know? I’d like to have it.” I put a hand over the front of his jeans, where he’s hard and ready for me. “Because I like you and your cock so very much.”
“The feeling is mutual,” he says, tossing my pet phrase back at me.
As we slide back into the games we play, the teasing, the never-ending flirting, the dirty words all feel bigger too.