Page 41 of More Than Words

“I’m not…” I panted, my head swimming as his lips hovered inches from my face. “Fine. It was your speech. I sat there listening to you and realized that maybe there was this other side to you. That maybe you weren’t a total dickhead, and I was intrigued. And you know what you look like. And it’s been a long time for me—“

“Intrigued enough to rip off my pants?” he interrupted.

“They were pulled around your ankles. There wasn’t any ripping.”

“Semantics. So, you liked what I said?” His posture relaxed, but he didn’t back up, the warmth from his body being so close making my head swim.

“Yeah, made me wish you’d stop being such a gigantic asshat ninety percent of the time.” Although that number was steadily dropping when we were alone.

“To be fair, it’s probably only seventy percent.”

“Not from what I’ve witnessed,” I argued, my fingers twitching against him, wondering what his skin felt like beneath the cotton of his shirt. I’d never seen him shirtless this close. And now I was desperately trying to recall it.

“And you’ve spent all this extra time with me outside of work?” he asked, still hovering.

“I’m doing it now, aren’t I?”

“But we’re working. Not the same,” he argued.

“Are you telling me you aren’t Dickhead outside the office?“ I asked, my voice breathy on his nickname. Sometimes I hated myself. Why was he affecting me like this?

“Are you telling me you aren’t boss bitch Barbie outside the office?”

“What?” I froze, my mouth dropping open slightly as my hand faltered, catching on the edge of his belt. “That’s what you think of me?”

“Well, you’re probably hotter than Barbie, but yeah. That’s my impression of you at work. Cold, bossy, and a little bit plastic,” he taunted, narrowing his eyes.

“My impression of you is that I’d like to leave the impression of my handprint across your face every time I’m forced to interact with you,” I growled, pulling my hand back, but he captured it in his and pressed it against his belt buckle.

“Go ahead,” he taunted, turning his cheek slightly and raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to slap you.” My fingers struggled against his, my eyes widening when I felt his body responding to the movement a few inches lower.

“But you want to. So do it. I dare you. If you really think I’m as terrible as you’ve built me up to be in your head, then slap me. I. Dare. You,” he hissed, his nose brushing mine as he leaned in.

I pulled my other hand from in between our bodies, but Adrian knew I didn’t have the nerve to hit him. He sat back on his knees, capturing it in his other hand, twisting it, and pinning it behind my back while he loomed over me on the couch. “You know the saying there’s a thin line between love and hate?”

“Are you quoting song lyrics from the seventies to me right now?” I hissed as I struggled against his tight hold on both of my hands.

“I don’t think you hate me as much as you say you do. Your nipples wouldn’t be that hard if you hated me,” he growled, glancing down at where my sweater had gaped open.

“Quit looking down my shirt.”

“Quit inviting me over when you’re not wearing a bra if you don’t want me to look.”

“Are you really trying to blame what I’m wearing on your pervy behavior?” The pure audacity of this man was staggering.

“Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you right now,” he whispered, leaning in closer, his grip on the hand behind my back loosening.

“Is that what you think I want?”

“I think if you wanted to twist off my nuts for touching you, you’d squeeze a hell of a lot harder,” he teased, guiding my hand lower, the hard outline of his cock pulsing against my palm.

Adrian stared at my lips, his chest heaving as he waited for my reaction, for a signal that this wasn’t one-sided and that I felt this insane, reckless attraction as much as he seemed to. My fingers flexed against his zipper and his hold on my wrist behind my back relaxed as he let out a low groan, the sound utterly desperate.

Fuck.

Acting purely on instinct alone, I wiggled my wrist free and reached out before he could react, my fingers gripping the hair at the back of his head firmly and pulling him forward.

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