Page 74 of Playboy Pitcher
“Willow, you can’t date players.”
“That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think? It’s okay to marry them and fuck them, but dating them is off limits?” Clenching her jaw, she jabs her finger in my chest again. “Check your boundaries there, Playboy.”
I swear to God, every time she does that shit, it makes me want to…to…
Shove it in my mouth and suck on it.
Goddamn it, focus and let her have it.
“Serrano isn’t right for you,” I growl.
Yep. Really told her. Maybe next time I should write her a love letter and just have her check yes or no.
Fucking idiot.
Willow lets out a harsh laugh, shifting her finger from me to the bar where Kelsey is giving us the stink eye. “And Barbie over there is your soulmate? Give me a break. Besides, I don’t remember asking for your consent.”
“You’re doing this to get back at me.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You’re transparent.”
Willow prides herself on holding her cards close to her chest, so that one stung. That’s why I’m only a little surprised when she flips me off and grabs her backpack off the table. “And you’re an asshole. We’re done here.”
Wrong.
Grabbing her arm, I swing her around and push her against the wall. The impact knocks the breath out of her, pressing her breasts against me and igniting every nerve ending. I can feel everyone watching us. Cameras are recording, but I don’t care. The only thing I care about is not letting her walk out that door.
Leaning down, I dust my lips against her ear. “We will never be done here, Puddles. I don’t care what you say or what you do, you feel it. You’re mine.”
She looks up at me through hazy, half-lidded eyes. “You think so, huh?”
“I can throw a fastball a hundred miles per hour, sweetheart,” I tell her, sinking a hand through her hair. “The next man who touches you will know how that feels.”
She moans, the sound driving every drop of blood in my veins straight to my cock. “This isn’t fair, Ben. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me. Is that how we’re playing it?”
“I don’t want you?” She can’t be serious. Tightening my grip on her hair, I pull back and stare at her in shock. “You were the one who ghostedme!”
“I know!” she yells back, and now I’m even more pissed because I have no fucking clue why we’re yelling. Letting out a shuddering breath, Willow presses her hand against my chest. “You scare the shit out of me, Ben.”
“You think you don’t scare me?” I ask, placing my hand over hers as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Jesus, Willow. You stormed into my life and fucked up everything I thought I knew. I’ve risked my career and future for a stranger. What sane man does that?”
She lets out a nervous little laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because she knows it’s true.
“You think I don’t want you? Woman, I ache for you. All I do is remember what you taste like. The sounds you make when you come. How badly I want to pin you against this wall and prove how good we are together.”
“Ben…” My name is a plea, but for what? Me? Distance? Both?
“What do you want, Willow? What’s holding you back?”
Her hands slide up my chest, and the damn thing swells. This is it. I’ve torn down that wall. “I want—” Before she can say anything else, something over my shoulder catches her eye, and she stiffens. “I have to go.”
“Not this again.” Just as she starts to come off the wall, I push her back with a warning. “There are only so many times I can ride this merry-go-round before I get dizzy and get off, Willow.”
It’s not a threat. It’s a fact. I’m addicted, not whipped.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, ducking under my arm. “I’m so sorry.” I don’t try to stop her this time. What’s the point? Instead, I watch as she slips out the side door and disappears.
