Waking Up to You Overexposed - By Leslie Kelly Page 0,119

Especially not my cock, as you well know.” He pressed hard against her, pushing her back against the wall, grinding into her. Because while her actions and her continued deceptions drove him crazy with anger, her nearness was driving him crazy with lust.

He was rock hard for her, raging with need.

She whimpered and stopped wriggling for a second, her hips bucking toward his in response—once, then again. She lifted one leg slightly, tilting her pelvis so his bulge hit her in the spot she most needed it to. “Oh, God,” she mumbled, “I get the point, you’ve got a lot to offer.”

She’d whispered that, calming herself down, and Nick almost groaned at her determination.

She still hadn’t quite let herself believe it had already gone too far, that her masquerade was over. Izzie had lost her temper at the thought that he’d play the same sexy, wicked games with another woman that he’d played with her the other night in the van. And she’d reacted with honest—if momentary—fury.

Now, having realized it, she was almost desperate to convince herself she could salvage the situation. She was hoping he hadn’t been talking to Izzie, who knew firsthand what he had to give her since she’d taken him into her body the other night. And that he was instead talking to Rose, who was right now feeling the size of his cock as it pressed against her.

Bending to the side, he grasped her bent leg, gripping her thigh to tug her up for a better fit. She groaned as their bodies came together more intimately. He could feel the heat of her—her moisture—through her thin pants and his own. She was wet and aroused, flushed and ready.

Yet still too damn stubborn to whip off the mask and take him on open, honest terms.

“So you ready to play those kinds of games?” he muttered as he rocked against her, inhaling her little cries of pleasure.

“I don’t like to be manhandled,” she muttered through hoarse breaths. The excited pulse in her throat and the desperate tone in her voice made a lie of that statement. She liked it. A lot.

He bit lightly on her bottom lip. “Yes, you do.”

She started to shake her head, but he kissed her, thrusting his tongue against hers, loving the silky feel of her mouth almost as much as he hated the scrape of the mask against his cheek. That mask was what finally brought him back to his senses. He didn’t want the masked woman, he wanted the real one. The one who trusted him and exhibited honesty. And guts.

He’d had enough. Enough of the lying, enough of the deception. Even enough of tormenting her.

So he dropped her leg. “I think we’re done.”

She sagged back against the wall. Even with the mask he could see the way her eyes widened with shock. And hurt. “What?”

It wasn’t easy to stay back, keep his hands off her, ignore the heat in the small room and the overwhelming smell of sexual want filling his head. But he did it. “I changed my mind.”

Turning his back to her, he took one step toward the door. Then he heard her whisper, “You son of a bitch, you do know.”

He put his hand on the knob. Glancing over his shoulder to meet her stare, he frowned and sighed. “Yeah, Izzie. I do.”

Then he walked out.

* * *

FOR THE FIRST TIME in the nearly three months that she’d worked at Leather and Lace, Izzie called in sick Sunday night. She told herself she was a coward ten times over. But that didn’t change the way she felt.

She couldn’t face him. Not after what had happened in her dressing room Saturday night.

His anger had been undeniable. His revenge understandable.

But it was his hurt—that glimpse of sadness on his face as he’d looked at her over his shoulder before walking out the door—that had been the real punch in the gut.

He’d been pursuing her relentlessly for weeks and had finally caught her that night in the van. He’d been nothing but honest about what he was going through—with his family, his life, his attraction to her.

And she’d been lying to him from the first moment. Lying about her secret job, lying about her feelings for him. Lying about what she really wanted.

Hell, she’d even been lying to herself about those last two. She’d been denying her feelings for him though they had existed for as long as she could remember. And she’d pretended she wasn’t dying for him physically