I force my chin in the air, pulling some self-confidence from somewhere within me. Or maybe I’m just channeling all the literary heroines I’ve read about in the past. What would Jane Austen make her characters do? “I felt your—” My gaze drops, signaling that I’m referring to his package when I was on his lap in the truck. I don’t know why I think Elizabeth Bennet would’ve started off with that line. They weren’t even allowed to be alone with a dude, but if she’d been forced to live in the twenty-first century, she would have.
Wyatt chuckles. “Oh, Tits. In this house, we use proper terms. You felt my cock against your ass? Is that what you’re trying to say.”
A fierce blush rises to my cheeks. It’s been such an odd day. The incident at school. Lucas. My dad’s house. Now this? I feel like I’m living two different lives. One where I’m being seduced by devils, and the other where the unthinkable is happening.
“Say it, Tits,” Wyatt presses. “Be the Wild Girl Lucas thinks you are.”
I smirk because it’s funny he thinks I need to be taught. Dude, please. I’ve been reading romance books since I was twelve years old. Most of the time, my only entertainment was books. I place my hands on his chest and push. I keep going until he hits the opposite wall. I can tell Wyatt likes it. Like this is all a big game he means to keep playing until it bores him. I slip up onto my tiptoes. “I felt it,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Your cock growing beneath me every time I moved on your lap, poking my ass like if you could just. Slip. Through.”
Wyatt’s smile grows more appreciative. “You know it, baby. I’m a horny asshole. I don’t care where the pussy comes from, I’m down.”
Unfortunately, I think that’s true in Wyatt’s case. His humor has to be a shield from something.
Not that I should care.
“Well, now that we’ve got that settled,” I say. I turn and start to move toward my room again.
Wyatt grabs my shirt, pulling me backward. I stumble into his chest, and he moves an arm around my middle. “Two things, Tits,” he breathes. “One, I don’t care how much of a dick Stone just was to you, we have a job, and we’re getting it done. So, you’re going to march your pert little ass back out to the living room so we can talk.” His fingers dig into my side in a dominant way. It’s not uncomfortable, it’s...hot. Wyatt Longhorn knows how to play the alpha asshole, that’s for sure. His hands linger there, and he forgets to keep talking. That one-track mind of his is going to get him in trouble.
“What’s number two?”
He moves my hair from around my shoulder and leans in, his lips just grazing my ear, making fire roar through me. The barest of touches fuels my lust like the first spark of dynamite or lick of heat. “Oh,” he breathes. “I just wanted to tell you that when you said cock, my own responded.” He presses his hips into me as proof. Just like when I was sitting in his lap, his hard cock sits firmly against my ass.
I swear I’m going to combust just by living here. “So, does that mean I own you?”
He freezes and pushes me away. His dark laughter rings behind me. He’s very good at that. Flicking from normal to prick in an instant. All of them are. “No one’s ever been able to claim that,” he says, voice as sharp as jagged glass. He walks past me with a dismissive once-over. “I highly doubt it will be you.”
He leaves me in the hallway and waltzes out into the living room. I could just turn around and head back to my room but there’s no lock on the door and I’m afraid the caveman here would just throw me over his shoulder and drag me out. Part of me wants to try to see if he would, but the other part of me knows he’s right. Whatever shit Stone and I have needs to be put away for the greater good. If he can’t be a man and put it behind him, I’ll have to do it.
The doorbell rings.
Plus, there’s pizza. Who am I to say no to trying whatever this calzone thing is?