Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(64)

“Your mom?” West asked, bending over me and lifting a chunk of my hair.

I eyed him. “Yes. I’m exhausted about this weekend already and it hasn’t even started yet.”

“I can’t wait to meet her. Do you think Allie would mind an impromptu strip at the reception?”

“You’d give my mother a heart attack.” I straightened then paused. “Although, on second thought...”

He laughed, leaning back against the stage and gripping the edge of it. It made his muscles pop, and my gaze slid downward before... Shit. I was staring at him. He coughed, and when I looked back up, his eyebrows had shot up and he was smirking.

“Nothing,” I said, scooting away from him and moving fliers on the next table.

They didn’t need it. I just needed to do something with my hands before I did something stupid like stroke his arms. Like a newborn kitten or something.

“Stop being so skittish. Believe it or not, I don’t mind when you stare at me like you want to push me back and climb on top of me.” West’s tone was so cocky that I wanted to slap it right out of him.

“I did not look at you like that!” I put my hands on my hips. “You’re so arrogant, you know that?”

“Yes. But I’m hot, so it works.”

“You sound like a sixteen-year-old trying to impress the head cheerleader so she’ll suck his dick.”

“I’m a twenty-nine-year-old trying to piss off this hot marketing guru I know so she’ll suck my dick.”

“I’m not going to suck your dick, West. Our relationship is platonic now.”

“Of course it is, but I can still try.”

I glared at him. “You’re getting on my nerves.”

“Good. The fact that I can’t bend you over that table and f*ck you is getting on my nerves.”

I didn’t have a response for it. I so badly wanted to fire something back at him, but instead, my cheeks betrayed me once again and I blushed red hot.

Damn my cheeks. Why did they always have to give me away? Damn red hair and fair skin. I was at an unfair disadvantage in the art of aloofness.

“I love it when you blush like that.”

I covered my cheeks with my hands.

“No.” He pushed off the ledge and closed the space between us. His fingers were cold as they wrapped around my wrists and pulled my hands away from my face. “Don’t cover it up. Please.”

It made my cheeks burn hotter.

“Why do you like it?” I asked. “I hate it. It’s my least favorite thing about myself.”

“Why do I like it when you blush?”

I nodded. Only his gentle grip on my wrists was stopping me from covering my cheeks again.

“I guess...” he said softly, lifting one hand to my face. He brushed his thumb right along my cheekbone, his eyes on mine. “It’s the way your eyes shine. I could look at them shining like that all day and never be bored of the view.”

I swallowed. God... He was on a roll today.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

I stilled. “I... I can’t.”

West frowned, small indents furrowing in his brow. “Of course you can.” His fingers stretched out and he cupped my cheek.

Involuntarily, my face turned in toward his palm. “I can’t, West. I shouldn’t even be here right now.” I pulled his hand away from my face and spun away. My purse was on the bar, so I made a beeline for it.

“Cute, Mia.”

“Excuse me?”

“Cute. I didn’t ask you to have dinner with me. I told you.”

I spun back around on my heels and stared him down. “Told me? You freaking told me to have dinner with you?” I stormed to him and jabbed my finger at his chest while he stared down at me with too much amusement. “Listen to me, West Rykman. You don’t tell me anything. You can throw me on that stage and grab my ass and whisper your dirty talk in my ear like you own me, but you don’t. You can spank my ass like you own that too, but you still f*cking don’t.”

I went to turn, but his lightning-quick reflexes twirled me and pinned me against the stage. I gripped the edge of it and hit him with a dark glare.

He responded by grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my face close to his. “That’s where you’re wrong. I do own you, Mia. Not in the conventional sense, but in the sense that you can’t stay away from me. I owned your * the first time I bent you over that hotel bed and f*cked you senseless. I owned your mouth the first time you took my cock to the back of your throat. And, if I have to put you on your knees, spread your tight, little ass cheeks, and f*ck you there so you believe I own your ass too, then I damn well will.”

He leaned in closer, so close that our noses touched. Our breath mingled in the tiny space of air between us, and my nerves sang as desire-fueled adrenaline pumped right through my body.

“And, angel? The moment you looked into my eyes, I owned you. So it wasn’t a f*cking request for dinner tonight. You come to my place for it or I’m gonna bring it to yours.”

I stared him down as best I could. I didn’t let my gaze waver, even as he released my hair and grasped the edge of the stage the way I was, boxing me in. Even as his cock pressed against the apex of my thighs and my clit throbbed.

“I don’t know what kind of women you usually have relationships with, but rest assured, I’m not them,” I said quietly. Strongly, but quietly. “And, even if I am turned on right now, demanding shit of me won’t get you what you want, West. I’m sticking by what I said this morning.”