Page 14 of Wes

I poke an index finger in his sternum, spitting the words. “Don’t you ever manhandle me again, asshole. I’m not one of your airheaded fans ready to debase themselves to inflate your fragile ego.” I drop my stare to his pants to make my point. I ignore the bulge there and lift my eyes back to his face. With a sarcastic lopsided smile, I add, “Like pump your shaft with their ass just outside the men’s restroom. Sorry I interrupted her before your grand finale.”

He narrows his eyes, zeroing in on a vein that throbs in my neck. My nostrils flare as our wills clash. I hold my ground when he lowers his head with the suave grace of a panther approaching his prey.

Electricity crackles, charging the space around us when his gaze pins mine. I swallow hard to alleviate the sensation of sandpaper in my mouth.

His full lips curve up, but his icy expression leaves little to the imagination. “Think you’ve got what it takes to finish the job?”

Hatred.

Indignation.

Rage.

Disbelief.

Contempt.

My head spins in a fucking fortune wheel of emotions until my heart sets on indignation. Heat creeps up my neck, spreading over my cheeks. “Maybe this,” I wiggle my finger back and forth between us, “turns you on, but it disgusts me.”

“Oh. Is. That. So?” He marks each word with a stride forward, forcing me to retreat until my ass hits the opposite wall.

When he angles his head and brings his mouth to the nook where my neck meets my shoulder, I brace myself for impact. If he forces himself on me, I’m ready to knee his balls.

Instead, he sniffs my skin. His deep inhale ignites my flesh. I hiss and fist my hands, so I don’t run my fingers through his hair and claim his tempting lips.

“If I disgust you so much,” he whispers against the shell of my ear before rubbing his nose along mine. “Why do you smell so sweet, like honeysuckles and wet pussy?”

Damn it! He’s picked both the scent of my perfume and my embarrassing situation. I lift my chin and shake my head to refute the truth and get rid of his sex appeal.

Epic fail on both.

I turn to the last resort left for me: a verbal attack aimed at the point where rock stars hurt the most – their self-importance. I slip on a mask of confidence I lack and hold his stare when he lifts his head again.

"Hidden Scars shouldn't have relied so much on you. Celebrities can’t be trusted. You’re just using the fundraiser for self-promotion.”

The green flakes in his eyes mesmerize as they turn from heated anger to simmering lust. If I don’t guard myself, I’ll be in bigger trouble than I already am. His fingers gliding up and down my arm don’t help me concentrate.

"Ouch. I’m not some lowlife rock star after a photo op,” he murmurs, and his baritone tickles my muscles.

I soldier on, ignoring the rush of blood singing in my ears and the ugly memories swirling in my head.

“You sure act like one. You’ll never be satisfied with one woman only. It’s not your style. The word orgy rings any bells?”

He brings his nose to my collarbone, and I wish I could drill a hole in the wall to escape the inevitable. I can’t. So, I clench my teeth as my heart beats in my throat, stealing air from my lungs. The earthy scent of his aftershave inundates my nostrils, turning my knees to jelly.

He braces one palm on the wall above my head and, like a cat playing with a mouse, he runs the tip of his index along my jaw. A traitorous nerve jerks under his pad and he grins.

“Yes, I’ve got an intense sex life. But every woman I fuck,” he pauses to allow the word to hang between us for a couple of beats while his finger traces my lips. When a sigh, I can’t keep in, splits them apart, he continues, “knows exactly what she's getting from me before she jumps in. She agrees to the terms and leaves my bed satisfied.”

When his long fingers wrap around the back of my neck, I whimper and drop my stare. His thumb lifts my chin until our eyes meet again.

The room spins and I grab his forearms for support. My head tells me to swat his hands away. My heart’s gotten caught in the sensual web he’s weaving. And my libido has wrangled control the moment he pinned me against the damn wall.

His eyes free mine, but only because his lips graze my chin.

My knees buckle. He offers support by thrusting a thigh between mine.

“What can I say? I enjoy a long, good fuck and am not ashamed of that," he whispers.

---