Page 40 of Whatever Lola Wants

She let her lips curve, eyes still closed. “Okay.”.

She felt a light brush over her shoulder, fingertips or lips, she didn’t know. “Okay if I grab a water first?”

“Sure.”

He moved away, his steps surprisingly soft over the wood floor. She heard the slight creak of the refrigerator opening and closing, then he was back, wrapping her fingers around a chilled bottle.

She pried her eyes open and sat up. He’d already twisted off the top, so she tipped it up and drank.

He crouched in front of her, naked and unabashedly aroused, and sipped from his own water as he watched her. He reached out, brushing his fingers over an errant lock of tangled hair that had fallen over her forehead. “Good?”

She gulped more water, then lowered the bottle with a nod. “Good. Thanks.”

“Sure. Do we need to talk about this?” he asked, eyes serious despite his reawakened dick.

“Probably,” she answered. “Eventually.”

“But not tonight.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered him anyway. “No, not tonight.”

He reached out to trace the tip of one calloused finger over the tip of her breast, smiling when it immediately puckered and hardened. “Am I staying?”

He was looking at her with what she thought of as Dom Face—asking everything, revealing nothing. It was a basic tactic, making the submissive express his or her desires openly without the comfort of knowing what the Dom wanted.

Of course, knowing it was a tactic, and one she herself had often used, didn’t stop the little trickle of anxiety.

But she wasn’t afraid of her own feelings, and she wanted him to stay. If he needed to hear that before making his decision, then so be it. Whatever he decided, her feelings were her own, and she’d take responsibility for them.

But still. Fuck him and his Dom tricks.

She finished her water, eyeing him over the bottle, then set it aside. “Is it up to me?”

“It is this time,” he answered.

“Then yeah, you’re staying.”

His slow smile was her reward. “Good.” He reached out and scooped her up, ignoring her shriek as he rose to his feet and tossed her over his shoulder. Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh and her hair fell in her face. She swiped it out of the way and found herself staring at his butt. It was tight and round with muscle and curiously, as tan as the rest of him. Hedonist, she thought with a spurt of amusement, and pinched him. The sharp smack on her ass made her yelp.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

Her eyes watered slightly, her butt throbbing from the crack of his palm. “Down the hall, last door,” she managed, and gripped his waist to keep her balance.

“I want a shower, a drink, and your cunt again.”

“Smooth talker,” she managed. “In that order?”

“Doubt it,” he said and headed down the hall while she grinned at his ass.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Two hours later, they were having that drink.

Lola sat bundled in her oversized bathrobe in the middle of her bed, sipping a glass of single malt scotch. She was craving a margarita, but didn’t have the energy to fire up the blender. When she told him just that, he grunted.

“Buy good tequila and you won’t need that shit.”

“I like that shit,” she said and chuckled at his pained look. “You’re such a guy.”

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