14. Chapter 14 #2
Naomi sighed. “I did. But then I found out later that the essay she submitted—the one that won—wasn’t even hers. She’d copied it from an older cousin.” His jaw tightened, but before he could speak, Naomi smirked. “So, the next day, I slipped a bunch of earthworms into her backpack.”
Tony blinked. “Earthworms.”
“Yup. Extra slimy ones. She screamed bloody murder when she reached in for her pencil and touched them. The whole class laughed.” Naomi’s grin widened. “She never found out who did it.”
Tony studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he shook his head. “You, Naomi Cross, are far more dangerous than you look.”
She lifted her glass in mock salute. “Finally. Someone notices.”
He gestured toward the kitchen door. “How about dessert?”
Naomi dug her phone out of her pocket, then glanced at the screen, and gasped. “I don’t have time for dessert! I’m going to miss the last bus!”
He stopped her with one large hand resting firmly on her shoulder, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric. “There’s no need to take the bus, Naomi,” he rumbled, his voice deeper now, the words carrying the weight of quiet authority. “You have a car.”
She shook her head adamantly, determination flashing in her eyes.
“Nope,” she countered, scooping up the wine glasses before he could.
“I can’t afford the repairs on that car.
It’s yours now. The key is on your counter.
” She didn’t give him a chance to respond, already heading for the kitchen with brisk steps.
“And you’re right—I will miss the bus. So, I’ll just call a service to pick me up. ”
His low chuckle followed her into the kitchen, warm and infuriating all at once.
“You don’t have the money for a car service.
” He turned, drying his hands on a dishtowel as he watched her with those dark, unreadable eyes.
“I’ll drive you home.” But then he trapped her against the countertop, his arms braced wide on either side of her. “Why won’t you accept the car, Naomi?”
She stiffened, her pulse leaping as she became acutely aware of the sheer size and heat of him. His hard, muscular body loomed close, caging her in. With his hands gripping the granite at her sides, she couldn’t slip right or left—and moving forward was unthinkable.
And yet, her eyes betrayed her. They slid forward, lingering shamelessly on his chest at close range.
At some point while cooking, he’d undone a few more buttons of his dress shirt, and now she could see the faint trail of dark hair across his skin.
Just enough to entice, to make her fingers ache with the urge to undo the rest, to slide her hands over the breadth of his chest and discover what his bare skin felt like.
But he was so closed off, so controlled. Would he even let her in?
When she finally forced her gaze upward, she found his eyes waiting—dark, intense, burning with heat.
“Do it,” he urged, his voice gravelly, roughened by restraint and…desire?
Her breath hitched. “Do… what?” she whispered, her tongue darting over suddenly dry lips.
“Whatever you want.” His voice was raw now, thick with want. “Touch me, Naomi.” He leaned closer until his mouth hovered just above hers, the barest brush of his breath ghosting over her lips. “I’ve wanted you to touch me since the first moment I saw you at the playground.”
Her heart skittered. “That long?” she asked, her fingers twitching slightly, wanting to reach out.
In one fluid motion, he lifted her as though she weighed nothing and set her onto one of the stools that had been tucked under the counter.
Naomi’s breath rushed out of her. No man she’d ever dated had been able to do that—hell, she’d never dated a man who radiated that kind of strength at all.
“Yeah,” he grumbled, his voice low and rough. He looked down at her tee-shirt. Before she could speak, his big, strong hands slid underneath, cupping her breasts. That felt so good, her body trembled at the touch.
“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”
She hesitated because she did want it. Desperately! When he started to pull his hands away, her eyes flew open and she grabbed his wrists.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, wishing that she could tell him otherwise.
But this man had featured too often in her dreams and fantasies.
Then his thumb slid over her aching nipple.
She moaned, leaning into his touch. That’s when she realized that her hands were on his shoulders.
When had that happened? She stroked the bared skin above the collar of his dress shirt. He was hot. Hotter than she’d expected.
When he pinched her nipple, it was so unexpected, she jerked, her legs automatically rising.
She tightened her thighs around him and that brought her core closer to his hard, throbbing shaft.
Unconsciously, she rolled her hips, experimenting with the sensation while her fingers moved lower.
She was just starting to release one of the buttons on his shirt when his adept fingers slid under her bra. Everything inside of her tightened.
“Do that again,” she hissed out.
He did and she gripped his neck, holding her body in place so that she could shift intimately against his shaft.
Suddenly, her tee-shirt went up and over her head, then the straps of her bra were pulled down.
Tony pulled back, admiring the picture she made.
For a moment, she wanted to cover herself with her hands, but the eager heat in his eyes stopped her and she grabbed his hands, pulling them back to her breasts.
“Please touch me like you were doing before.”