Page 71 of The Worst Guy Ever
“What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a girl just drop in on a good friend and say hello these days?” she shrugs, her voice like warm honey. I can’t do anything but stare, wondering what she’s wearing beneath that coat. I have a sneaking suspicion it’s nothing, but would she really be bold enough to turn up at my house naked? She’d better not have taken a cab. My chest tightens at the thought of her practically naked with some strange man making small talk about potholes and the weather. I glance over her shoulder, and relief washes over me when I see her car.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
What I want to do is throw her over my shoulder and march her up to my bedroom, but Hattie has never pulled a stunt like this before. After all her months of resisting me, a little payback seems only fair.
“Why do you want to come in?”
“I think you know why,” she bites her bottom lip, but then half a second later she releases it, her smile replaced with a look of horror. “Oh shit, do you have company?”
“No, I’m alone.”
“Then get out of my way.”There’s my girl.
She pushes past me and, despite myself, I close the door behind me. “Aren’t you going to offer to take my coat?”
“What’s under your coat, Hattie?”
“Take it off and find out.”
Fuck my life.I knew it, and I’m desperate to know but this is a very, very, dangerously bad idea. This has to be karma kicking me in the nuts, right? Payback for everything I put her through when we first met. The bet, the taunting, all of it. My hands tingle as I reach for her belt, but I pull back and shove them deep into my pockets.
“You need to go home,” I say, but she’s not in the mood for listening. She struts down the hallway and into my kitchen like she owns the place. My heart rate kicks up a notch, my dick stiffening behind my zipper. This feels like a game, but I don’t know the rules, how to play, or even if it’s one I want to win or lose.
Hovering in the doorway, I find her sitting on the kitchen counter, her legs dangling apart, making just enough room for her hands to grip the edge between them. The front panels of her coat have slipped aside and ridden up, exposing the firm, smooth, bare inner thighs. The memory of kissing her there floods my brain and I want to get on my knees, crawl to her, and feast. In my pockets my fingernails prick the skin of my palms.
“Have you seriously got your bare arse on my kitchen counter?”
She nods seductively and wiggles her hips. “And the marble feelssogood on my warm skin.”
“That’s not marble. It’s laminate. You’re nuts, get down.”
“Come on, Rob,” she whines. “What’s the problem? We both have itches to scratch. We’ve already seen each other naked. Why can’t we do it one more time?”
One more time wouldn’t come even close to scratching the itch.
“You know why. We don’t sleep with people more than once and you’re kind of proving my point about why not. People get too attached, though I have to say you’re the first who’s gone this far.”
She bursts out laughing. “Get over yourself, I’m the last person in the world who is going to get attached to you.”
After so long trying to get Hattie into bed, I can’t say I hate being on the opposite side of this battle. The idea that she would beg for me is too tempting to ignore. I must have left quite the impression. She tormented me for months before giving it up, I’m not letting her get what she wants so easily.
I move past her, grab a beer from the fridge, and take a seat at my small kitchen table. I open a magazine, sit back and flick through the pages, refusing to make eye contact with her.
In my peripheral vision she slides off the counter, loosens her belt and pulls her coat open. She settles her hands on her hips and waits for my reaction. Glancing sideways, my eyes drag up her gorgeous calves, and it’s impossible not to keep going. Up, up, up to the top of her thighs, to the skimpy black underwear that leaves little to the imagination. Up to the soft dip of her hips, her toned stomach, and the swell of her tits in a bra with cups so tiny I’m amazed they’re held in at all. She doesn’t belong here, she belongs on a billboard causing multiple vehicle pile-ups. What did I do to deserve this punishment?
I prop my elbow on the table and press my hand across my forehead, the worst shield ever as Hattie stalks her way over to the fridge.
“Do you have any whipped cream in here?”
A low growl rumbles in my chest. “Stop it.”
She opens the low freezer next, bending over to peer inside. I get the perfect view of her lace thong peeking out from underneath her coat. “What about ice? I’m so hot, I need something to cool me down.”
She rummages around, and when she finds it she takes a cube between her fingers, kicks the door closed and turns to face me. My jaw hangs slack when she swipes her tongue across the frozen surface and wraps her lips around it. I can practically hear it sizzle. My eyes lock on a trickle that runs from her mouth, down her hand to her wrist. She dips her head to catch it, lapping it up ever so slowly, and I’m reminded of her running it along the length of my dick that night in the hotel.
She doesn’t stop there, tipping her head back, hissing as she drags the ice along her jaw and down her neck. Her throat rolls and on it goes, tracing wet circles across the top of her breasts then down between them. She bites her lip and her moan imprints on my memory.
