Page 170 of Only With You

I watch him dubiously. “Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll put it back, but before I do, pick one.” His dark eyes drop to the box, skimming through all my toys. “Pick wisely, though.”

My heart scampers and a faint pulse grows between my thighs. “Why? What are we going to do?”

“Pick one and find out.”

The pulse slowly spreads around my body until I feel it on my heated face.

I must’ve been looking too long at the array of vibrators, dildos, and other things, because Landon reaches into the box and inspects each one thoroughly. A moment later, he’s pulling out my newest toy, a magenta-colored strapless strap-on, and grabs the small remote that comes with it.

Daisy recommended it the night they were all here for Frimance. She said it’s one of the best ones, because of the threemotors it has, and the egg and tongue part. So I obviously had to buy it and try it out. I haven’t, but I guess tonight I will.

Before he places the box back, he grabs the lubricant I’ve also got stored in there. It was a free gift I got when I bought the strap-on.

I nervously take a few steps back, not because I’m worried about whatever he’s got planned, but because I feel eager. If Landon asked me to drop to my knees, I would in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t even think about it.

Holding my hand up, I stop him from getting any closer. “You’ve lost the privilege to touch me. Especially after everything you’ve put me through this week.”

He lifts a brow, staring at me almost bored. “What did I put you through?”

I glower, taking a step back when he takes one forward. “You teased me all week.”

“You teased me first. I was only getting even.” He continues to stalk toward me, staring at me like I’m his prey and he’s got me right where he wants me.

I scoff in disbelief, the back of my knees hitting the side of my bed. “You really are a petty asshole.”

“I never said I wasn’t. I don’t understand why you’re surprised, Julianna.” He stops in front of me. The only thing separating us is my palm on his chest. “Put it down.”

I defiantly hold my ground. “You’re going to have to make me, because that’s not going to happen.”

“Okay.” He throws the stuff on my bed, and in a blink of an eye, he clasps his large palm around my throat and squeezes it. “Drop your fucking hand.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly I do, but I don’t dwell on it as Landon snakes his arms around my back, still keeping his palm on my throat, and forces my body against his and connects his lips with mine. A gasp is the only air I manage to suck in beforehis lips are hungrily devouring mine. I groan into his mouth when he bites my bottom lip. He doesn’t soothe the sting before he does it again and aggressively sucks my lip into his mouth.

I whimper, fisting his shirt, but not because I want him to stop. It hurts. Fuck, does it hurt, but it also feels really good. I must be a masochist, because I want him to do it again—no, Ineedhim to do it again. And he knows it, because I feel his smug as fuck smirk against my lips, and throaty chuckles rumble from his chest.

Prying away from him, I grimace. “I hate you.”

He breathes a satisfied sigh. “Yeah, you will tomorrow.” His dark steel-gray eyes sweep down my body, soaking in the sight of me in his jersey. “This is what you should have been wearing tonight.”

“I might consider wearing it next time.”

“There’s nomightand nothing toconsider. You will wear it. Got it?” His jaw clenches and the grip on my throat tightens, making it hard to swallow.

I really am a masochist, because the pulse between my thighs enhances, and my panties grow wet at the sharp demand in his voice.

“No.” I shake my head, holding back my smile at the frustration on his face. “What if I want to show my support to someone else on the team? Maybe someone like…Quinton?”

I only know who he is because he’s asked me out a few times, and continuously DMs me even though I never reply. I once spoke to him and regretted it after he opened his mouth.

He made a stupid blond joke and proceeded to neg me, while staring at my boobs for the entirety of our conversation which lasted about five minutes.

“Fuck that,” he rasps, spins me, and pins my back flush against his hard chest with his hand still on my throat. I feel his anger; it radiates from his body in hot waves and blisters myalready heated skin. His warm breath tickles the shell of ear and then his beard scratches it. “I swear to God, you’ll hate me.”

“Right,” I drawl and that’s all it takes, because it all happens too fast. He pins my chest to the bed and grabs my hips, hauling me back, and slips a pillow underneath my stomach. “Wow, how intense,” I mock, goading him because how bad could it get?

He leans forward, hovering over me, and grabs my hair, moving it to the side. “Fuck tomorrow, you’ll really hate me tonight.”

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