Dirty Girl (Page 30)

“Where . . . where did this come from? What makes you think I want this?”

A lazy smile spreads over his face. “I know you better than you think. Do you remember the first time I told you to kiss me? You wanted me to take the lead. Make the decision. Tell you what to do. It hasn’t changed a bit.” He releases my chin and trails the back of his fingers across my cheek before burying his hand in my hair. “Tell me what you did when I told you to kiss me. Do you remember how sweet you were? How willing to please?”

The memory comes back as if on his command . . .

Cav insisted we share a taxi home from the bar, and the driver stopped at my place near campus. He got out of the car first, telling the cabbie to wait, and walked me to the front door. When I thanked him for the drinks and the ride, he shook his head.

“I’m walking you to your apartment door. I’m not some punk kid who’s going to leave a girl on the sidewalk.” He looked down at the ink covering his arm, exposed without a jacket. “I may look like a thug, but I’ve got a few manners in me.”

I had just enough liquor to speak my mind without a filter. “You don’t look like a thug. You look . . . sexy as hell.” Once the words were out, I reconsidered my honesty. “Shit, I shouldn’t say things like that. You—”

“Like knowing the girl I think is hot as fuck also thinks I’m sexy as hell.” His grin was wicked, and my body—aka my nipples—took notice and stiffened against my bra. “You’re so damn innocent, but I still want a taste, Greer. Lead the way.”

What did that even mean, he still wanted a taste? And I wasn’t that innocent. I wasn’t a virgin or anything. I just didn’t fuck on the first date. My thoughts were coming in jumbled riots as I led him to the elevator and up the hallway.

I stopped in front of my door. “This one.”

Cav held out his hand. “Keys.”

“You’re bossy.”

A crooked smirk twitched the corner of his mouth. “You have no idea, baby girl. You have no idea.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but I handed over the keys and watched him unlock my door. I stepped over the threshold, but Cav wrapped a hand around my arm to stop me.

“You’re gonna kiss me first, and then you can go to bed.”

“I’m gonna kiss you?” Surprise filtered into my tone at his bossy statement.

“Like you’ve been waiting weeks to do it.”

Which was the God’s honest truth.

I stared up into his changing hazel eyes. In this light, they were bluish-gray. How was I supposed to just . . . kiss him?

“Well, this is awkward,” I murmured.

“Doesn’t have to be awkward at all. All you gotta do is exactly what I say.”

He walked me through it, one step at a time, exactly how he wanted me to kiss him. Both hands on his chest, pressing up on the toes of my boots until our lips met, and then he took control.

I knew it at that moment—Cav Westman’s dominant streak ran hot.

“I remember,” I whisper. “But—”

“But nothing. I want you to let go, Greer. Let me take the wheel for a while. I swear you’ll enjoy the hell out of it.”

I know what my answer is, but instead of speaking the words, I reach for the ties on my bikini top and tug them free. The hot-pink material slides away and I drop it on the lounge chair beside me.

Cav’s eyes heat with lust. He reaches up and cups my breast, leaning down to whisper against my lips, “Fucking beautiful. And all mine.”

A thought strikes me. “What about Rea and Juan? I don’t—”

“I told her we’d take care of making our own lunch. Neither of them will be coming in the house until tonight.” His thumb brushes across my nipple, taunting it into a harder peak. “You think I want to share you with anyone? This is all for me and no one else.”

The possessiveness in his words unknots the ball of anxiety twisting in my belly. Maybe I can ask for what I want just like he’s demanded exactly what he wants from me.

Soon. Later. Once I’ve had time to properly construct the words and analyze all of the responses he could give me. Why is it I can be completely impulsive with some things and then absolutely analytical in others?

Oh, that’s right. Alcohol. Speaking of which . . .

Cav reads my mind. “Let’s get this sexy skin protected from the sun, and then I’m going to make us a round of drinks. I’m gonna eat your pussy while you drink it.”

“Say what now?” I squeak.

“Your pussy. You woke me with your mouth on my cock, and I’m feeling deprived. Call it my midmorning snack.” His wicked grin ensures my stiff nipples aren’t disappearing anytime soon. “Now, lay down on the lounge chair so I can take care of you.”

I follow his directive, lying first on my stomach and letting him cover me with sunscreen. Cav’s wide hands take only seconds to cover the expanse of my shoulders, back, and legs.

When I roll over and try to grab the sunscreen from him, he holds it out of reach. “Really, Greer, you think I’m going to pass up any opportunity to get my hands all over you?”

“Do I get to return the favor?”

A smile curves lazily along his lips, and the urge to kiss him beats strongly within me.

“Absolutely.”

I smother my moans as Cav takes his time covering every inch of my skin with sunscreen. Kneading my breasts and rolling my nipples is unnecessary, but a completely welcome addition. By the time he’s finished, I’m bucking my hips against the knee pressing between my legs.