Page 123 of Gloves Off

Nerves trickle through me. He’s not backing down. Neither am I.

My hands shake as I take the undergarments off, but not fromfear. Hookups have always been so dull and predictable, so unsatisfying. I’ve never been with someone that’ll play with me like this.

With my back to him, I stand naked, Alexei’s eyes burning marks in my skin. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I can’t stop, though. I feel alive, like I’m sprinting down a hill. If he rejects me, I’ll explode into a thousand pieces of humiliation.

The man bought me lingerie, though. He’s not going to reject me. I hope.

Slowly, so painfully slowly, I put the bra and panties on. Perfect fit. My tits look amazing and I feel like a goddess. My respect for him grows.

Before I can turn, though, he’s at my back, warm and bare-chested. He reaches past me to lean on the dresser, caging me in. His lips meet the sensitive spot between my neck and my shoulder, and my thoughts scatter.

“You look like a fucking dream, Georgia.”

“You don’t think I look like a...” I pause, heart hammering. “Rotten tuber?”

I feel the curve of his lips on my shoulder. Just once, I wish I could see him smile. I bet it would blow my mind.

“Yes, I know all about your little term of endearment,” I laugh. “We could have been caught, you asshole.”

Another curve against my shoulder. Another scraping kiss, stubble against skin. Goosebumps rise down my back. We’re supposed to be competing, I tell myself. Not laughing.

“I couldn’t help myself.” His low voice rumbles through his chest, which is pressed against my back. He’s warm, and I fight the urge to lean into him. “Turn for me, Hellfire.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” And yet, I’m turning, leaning back against the dresser, heart in my throat as his gaze drags down my body.

Our eyes meet; his flash with heat.

“You look fucking incredible.” He sounds like he’s in pain as his hand comes to my thigh, brushing his fingertips up my leg. “But you knew that.”

“So this is the new direction you had in mind, huh.”

“Tell me to stop.”

His hand drags closer to my center, and my heart pounds everywhere—my throat, my ears, my chest, between my legs. His head dips to my neck again, his lips skating over my skin, still trailing his fingers over me. Over the seam at my hip, over my waist, up to the lace at my ribcage. Under his touch, I don’t breathe.

“Why did you buy this?” I whisper, my focus narrowing to his fingertips at the top of my thigh, four inches from where I need them. Where I’m getting damp for him.

“Buying you things makes me feel a certain way.”

My gaze drops. He’s hard, huge, and my mind races with the memory of how he felt inside me. The deep, pleasurable burn as my body worked to accommodate him. A delicious ache forms between my legs.

“Are we doing this again, Hellfire?”

God, yes,I want to say.Fucking finally. “I don’t care,” I say instead. This is a game, I remind myself, and caring means I lose.

Slowly, he shakes his head, just like that time on the ice when that drunk guy was talking to me. “Not good enough.”

I reach for his erection, but he catches my wrists, pinning them together in one hand. “No.” He nips my shoulder. “You ready to beg?”

Determination roars through me. “Never.”

“We’ll see.”

He brings his hand between my legs, brushing his knuckles over my center, over the panties he bought. The barest contact against that bundle of nerves has my head falling back, has my hips arching into his fingers, but he keeps his touch light and teasing.

“Wet already.” He sounds like he’s won something, dragging slow, leisurely strokes over me.

A frustrated noise slips out of me.

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