She laughs, blows me a kiss, turns, and I watch as her sexy hot ass sashays through the crowd.
I dig the ice out of my pants and throw it under the table. I look around to see if anyone just saw what happened. I try to catch my breath as I drag my hand down my face. “What the hell was that shit?” I murmur.
I sit back and stretch my arms out along the back of the chair.
Testosterone is thrumming through my body, the primal urge to fuck is hard and real.
Her words come back to me: I guess I’m just not that into you . . .
Liar.
Nothing’s easy with this woman. I want to go to her house and drag her into bed.
But of course, I won’t.
Lesson number one, don’t play with a player.
I smirk into my glass.
Kate Landon is going to get it.
Hard.
KATE
“Taxi,” I call as I hold my arm up.
One pulls up and I dive into the backseat. “Quick, drive,” I say to the driver.
“Okay lady, calm down,” he says as he pulls out into the traffic. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Just getting away from a bad date,” I lie. I turn and look out the rear window and watch the club disappear into the distance.
I turn back to face the front as relief fills me. I can’t believe I just did that.
I get a vision of Elliot in the club right now with ice down his pants, and I smile goofily.
Wow . . . who am I?
I think this is my favorite moment of all time.
I giggle to myself—go me.
Three hours later, the problem with playing hard to get is that you don’t get it.
I lie in the dark and twist my mother’s ring around my finger as I think. It’s late—4 a.m.
I haven’t heard from Elliot; I thought he would have messaged me, if only to give me a mouthful. And after sitting at my computer for an hour when I got home, Edgar hasn’t answered my message either.
Which leads me to believe one thing: Elliot did in fact go back upstairs and fuck a model.
Just like I told him to . . . I throw the back of my arm over my face in disgust.
Ugh, you idiot.
Why did I say that?
I keep going over and over the way he kissed me, the way his broad shoulders felt under my hands.
And can we just take a minute to appreciate that humungous hard dick in his pants?
It’s ridiculous, nobody can be that blessed.
He’s like a porn star or something, or maybe it’s just been a really long time for me and I’ve forgotten what erections feel like.
Hot and smooth, thick veins . . . hmmm.
A deep ache thumps in between my legs, my body pissed that I didn’t deliver the goods.
Hell, I’m pissed.
A good fucking would have been just what I needed tonight, but the reality is a different story. I have my period.
And if I ever did fall into bed with the elusive Elliot Miles, he’s going to have to work a lot harder than that . . . even if I am just a horizontal crush.
I mean, I don’t want anything more than that anyway, but I’m not easy.
Especially not for domineering assholes who kiss like the devil.
My inner ho reappears and I wonder what it would be like to be underneath him . . .