Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)(37)

He grins a devilish smile, his eyes hooded as he watches me from above. He plants his large hands on either side of me.

Memories of the night we shared, details I thought I’d forgotten, come buzzing back. The feeling of his weight on me. The softness of his lips against the side of my neck. The roughness of his voice as he growled my name.

“Are you tired of pretending you don’t want me?” he asks.

“No.”

“Come on, Avery.”

It’s less of a plea and more of a taunt—a lure from a man who knows exactly what he does to me.

Because he does it to everyone. And I don’t want to be another notch, even for Penn.

I force a swallow. “I don’t want you, Penn.”

“Fine,” he says. His eyes bore into me. “How about this, then? I’ll call my favor due.”

“First of all, you didn’t win.”

“Bullshit.”

I swallow again. “You didn’t. And if we’re going to work around each other here, we’re going to have to stop this.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop . . . this, whatever it is.” I shift, careful not to bump his arms, which are caging me in. “You thinking I want you.”

He rocks back, his fingertips sliding to the edge of the table. His eyes are the color of the sky on a clear summer day.

My fingers itch to touch the stubble dotting his jawline. My lips swell at the thought of touching his. A part of me wishes he’d just kiss me and get it over with.

Maybe if I just kiss him, he’ll stop this, and I can go on about my life.

He leans in again, and I think I pant.

What’s one kiss, anyway?

My head spins as the air between us heats. He fixes his eyes on mine with a seriousness that tightens the knot in my stomach.

“Double or nothing,” he says.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world, like he wants to completely devour me right here. A grin so seductive, a smile that’s so full of everything I’d like him to do to me, jets my way.

While I can’t let him do all those things, I could let him kiss me. And if I did that, maybe it would put out some of the fire between us.

One kiss. I can totally handle one kiss.

It would be a means to an end. The only way I can figure to stop this nonsense.

“If your panties aren’t soaked right now, you win. I’ll leave you alone.”

Fuck it.

I grab his face in my hands, startling him for a moment. The roughness of his cheeks prickles my fingertips.

His eyes go wide as I stare straight into them and lower his lips to mine. Just before they touch, he gasps the slightest breath.

White noise pours through my ears, muting everything except my thundering heart.

He moves until his body is against the table and his powerful thighs are situated in between my own. Otherwise, there’s no movement from him as he lets me take control of the contact.

I reach up and gently press my lips to his. My eyes flutter closed as the warmth of Penn spills into me. I fully intend on pulling back but am caught in an intoxicating state of wanting more.

Craving more.

Needing more.

His lips part, and I take advantage. As I slide my tongue into his mouth, the heat of his body filters into mine. His erection presses into the inside of my leg, and I whimper.

My hands go to his hair. The silky strands run through my fingers as his hands find my ass. He yanks me forward so that I’m against his body.

He’s a wall built of muscle and desire. My back arches, my chest pressing into his; his tongue wraps around mine and makes it hard to tell where he starts and I stop.

His fingers find the hem of my shirt and dip beneath it. The small of my back is electrified by his touch.

I breathe him in. I taste the sweetness of his lips. I feel the steadiness of the man who wants me as bad as I want him.

A low growl erupts from the base of his throat. And that does it. I’m jostled by my reality and the precipice on which I stand. I can keep going, keep kissing him, and get so much more. Or I can stop and not ruin the next six months of my life.

I press a final kiss to his mouth, committing the taste of peppermint gum to my memory, and pull away.

Our breathing is ragged as he searches my face. He rests his hands on my thighs as he steps back, giving me space to get myself sorted.

“Avery . . .” He chuckles as he licks his lips.

I could reach up and pull him back to me, knot his shirt in my fist, and spend the rest of the day doing all the dirty things I can imagine doing with him. But as I start to wonder how different this time will be from last, I’m reminded of the fact that he doesn’t even know this will be round two.

I press against his chest before hopping off the table. My heart still clamoring, I adjust my shirt.

“Glad we got that over with,” I say.

“I . . . What?” He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Got what over with?”

“You won. Happy now?”

“Oh, that makes me happy, all right. But that’s . . . you know . . . not what I wanted.” He looks at the ground, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

I hold my breath, hoping stupidly that he’ll say something more—something that will prove me wrong. That he’s not the cad, the player, the guy who will lose interest in two weeks flat.