He stands over me, his eyes darting between mine, trying to read me, but I have no idea what I’m thinking right now.
“I really want to fuck you, sweetheart,” he softly adds.
My mind floods with disbelief, but at the same time, a jolt of genuine confidence runs through me. This guy, who every girl in North America would probably throw themselves at, is choosing me. Sure, he’s choosing me simply for one night, but still, I didn’t expect that.
Regardless, I’m not losing my job over an athlete who will forget I exist as soon as it’s over.
“Well, I can’t stand you,” I say in hopes it’ll help me put the boundaries back up.
Instead, a deep chuckle comes from his smirking lips before he bites down on the bottom one. “I don’t believe you.”
His thumb traces my cheekbone, but even though his touch ignites my entire body with warmth, I don’t take back my statement.
“Besides,” he continues. “Let’s say that is true, and you can’t stand me. Hate sex is the best sex anyway.”
I keep my focus glued to the gold chain around his neck, knowing I can’t look him in the eye. Behind the shiny metal, the black swirls of his tattoos blend with the deep shade of his skin. It’s all so perfectly distracting.
“What do you say, Stevie?” Zanders lifts my chin with a single finger, pulling my distracted gaze back to him. “One wild night.”
His lips are lifted into a sinister smirk, a devil’s promise in his eyes.
Do I want to? Hell yes. Should I? Absolutely not.
His reputation is the first red flag, reminding me of the promise I made to myself—that I’d never hook up with an athlete again. They’re bombarded by groupies, jersey chasers, just hoping for their turn. But God, you can bet he knows exactly what to do, and nobody has properly gotten me off in a while. Sure, there’s the purple toy back in my hotel room, but imagine the real thing.
I want to say yes. My vagina wants me to say yes. Say yes, Stevie. It’s only one time.
“No,” my brain speaks for me. “I’m good.” Followed by a condescending pat on his chest as I take a step back and away from him.
There’s no genuine confidence in what I’m saying or doing right now. It’s all an act because I’m freaking the fuck out.
Zanders’ lips tilt in an amused grin. He raises his chin slightly as his mischief-filled eyes stare down at me, and I’m pretty sure me saying no is precisely what he expected. He likes that I don’t give into him, but I’m starting to like it less and less.
“Open offer,” he says, taking a step back and casually tucking his hands into his pockets. “You just let me know when you’re ready to give in.”
Never sounds good. Never is what my brain wants me to say.
“How about never?”
“Never?” he repeats, brows lifting as he tests me.
I swallow. “Mm-hmm.”
“So”—he takes slow commanding steps towards me once again, but this time I retreat at the same pace until my back hits the brick wall of the bar behind me, his muscular body pinning me to it—“you never want me to kiss you?” His lips are lingering just above mine, and I can almost feel their softness and warmth from here.
Contemplating for a moment, my eyes dart to his lips as he sweeps the bottom one, wetting it with his tongue.
I continue to be mesmerized by the movement as I shyly shake my head to tell him no.
Well, that’s a bald-faced lie, Stevie.
My heavy breathing and rapidly rising chest are vastly contradictory to the slow, steady inhales and exhales flowing through Zanders’ body. Though we’re pressed together so tightly, you might not know where I stop and he starts if it weren’t for our entirely different pace in breaths.
His body is large and commanding, suffocating in the most delicious way.
There’s a firm pressure resting right above the apex of my thighs, causing my entire body to ache, finally feeling what I’ve only been lucky enough to see.
He tucks my messy curls away from my face. The pad of his broad thumb gently trails the shell of my ear, ghosting over my endless gold earrings as an unwelcome shiver of need runs up my spine.
“And you never want me to touch you?” he softly asks.
My mouth falls open, needing to fill my lungs with oxygen, but this outdoor alley is currently depleted of any.
Touch me? I want him to touch every inch of me, but if my body’s current reaction to feeling him with his clothes on is any indication, I don’t think I could handle his bare touch.