“No, thank you.”
He scrubs a palm over his stern mouth. “Does verbal sparring get you excited, Savannah?”
His use of my full name doesn’t go unnoticed, but correcting him will only reload his weapons against me. “I guess that depends on my partner.”
“And I suppose that’s why we fight so well.”
“I wouldn’t say we do anything well together. Nope,” I disagree with finality.
“Pity.” The way he sneers the word reveals his true feelings. “I was beginning to believe you’d be worth the time it took me to unzip my fly.”
I allow a purposely airy giggle to stumble off my tongue. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Landon tsks. “That apology is faker than your laugh.”
“It’s genuine, compared to your indecent proposal.”
“Excuse me for voicing the obvious when you weren’t ready to hear it. I figured we could both benefit from a satisfying release.” His reasoning is served with an entitled lift of his chin.
“How kind of you to consider my needs.” I roll my eyes. There’s no chance I’m falling for his phony sincerity.
“It’d be better if you actually agreed.”
“I can take care of myself, thank you.”
His eyes rake across my chest, carving a blistering path to my crossed legs. “It’s selfish not to share.”
I squint at him. “You’re the last person who should admonish me about greed.”
“Coming from someone lacking access to my charitable donations, that’s quite an ugly conclusion to draw.” He tugs at the sleeves of his jacket. “I’m a giver where it truly counts.”
I had a sinking suspicion that last comment wasn’t referencing nonprofits. “You’re just peeved that I’m not falling at your feet.”
Landon shrugs, casting his gaze outside. “I will admit that your reaction is uncommon, but it’s a refreshing change of pace all the same.”
I park my chin on a closed fist. “Oh, that’s intriguing. Is someone in the mood for a chase?”
He grunts and drags his eyes back to me. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Oh, whoops. Do you prefer women to be meek and mild?”
“Don’t forget easy and temporary.”
I don’t have to fake my gag reflex. “You’re a pig.”
“And you’re annoying,” he retorts.
“Wow, good one.”
“I aim to please.” He’d said the same thing during our first conversation at Ashlee’s wedding. The joke I made fell flat, much like our entire exchange.
I muster enough enthusiasm to quirk an eyebrow. “I’m well aware.”
Landon schools his features, treating me to another heaping dose of indifference. Even the toasty brown hue in his gaze appears flat. With deft fingers, he loosens the tie knotted at his throat. The concept of fastening one with such expert precision is lost on me. I find my focus zeroing in on his motions, mesmerized by the seemingly simple act. He’s succeeding in unraveling more than just that silk strip.
The man could write a chart-topping guidebook on how to properly fill out a suit. From the tailored cut to the subtle pinstripes, that sleek fabric makes him look untouchable. As if wealth and prosperity didn’t already bestow a freaking crown on his head. He might as well be a damn royal for all the snubs and condescending comments slung at will. I bet it wouldn’t take much for him to receive an advanced degree in rash judgments. If only his exterior wasn’t so alluring.
It takes Wonder Woman-level effort to stop fantasizing about the slabs of muscle beneath his dress shirt. His broad shoulders narrow into a trim torso, which is sculpted enough to suggest a chiseled physique. I’m sure he smells delicious too. Listening to him berate me is almost enjoyable. His rich voice alone has my body preparing to betray me. That tantalizing rasp gives me goosebumps, even when he’s flinging insults. I have to curl my toes against the hypnotic onslaught. It’s like being wrapped in crushed velvet and dunked in a warm bubble bath.
I scold myself—again—for being susceptible to his polished appearance. That’s the thing about predators. The extra dangerous ones are concealed in the most beautiful packages to tempt their prey. Well, I’m not falling for it.
Little does this asshole know, I rely—quite heavily—on our deal going smoothly. I’m not giving him the ammunition of admitting that, though. That’d probably be similar to a stocking stuffed with goodies on Christmas morning to a guy like him. It’s almost terrifying to consider the possibilities of what he’d do with such power. I shudder at the thought. No, I don’t need him to have more control of this situation.
In an effort to appear calm and collected, I twirl a stray curl of hair around my