Stinger (A Sign of Love Novel)(73)

"You. You're jealous."

"Jealous?" I sputtered. "I'm not jealous. I just don't see how you could ask me to call off my engagement last night and then be in here with another girl this morning!"

"Did you call off your engagement?" he asked quietly.

"What? No! No," I said, shaking my head.

"No?"

"No."

We stared at each other for a few beats, my pulse kicking up another notch and a tick starting in his jaw.

I stood up taller, conjuring up my resolve and putting my hands on my hips. "I just came here to tell you we couldn't see each other again."

"You already told me that last night," he said.

"Yes, well I did, but I'm telling you again. To make sure you heard me."

"That's why you came here? To make sure I heard you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

I nodded my head. "Hmm hmm. To make sure you heard me," I repeated.

"I was two feet away from you when you said it, Grace."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I know you heard me. But I want to make sure you know, you heard me."

Carson stared at me, his eyes narrowed and his chest rising and falling steadily. I could practically see the wheels turning in that head of his.

Suddenly, he stood up from the edge of his desk and stalked toward me. I backed up, but he kept coming until my back hit the wall. My pulse skyrocketed and I sucked in air. The delicious smell of him, clean soap and Carson Stinger, was suddenly all around me, intoxicating me.

"Yes, I heard you, Buttercup. Did you hear me when I told you I didn't agree?" he asked.

He leaned in toward me, taking one finger to lift my chin so that we were staring at each other eye to eye. He studied me for a few seconds. "Look at you, Buttercup. You're all worked up–that brain of yours going a million miles a minute, isn't it? You've been trying to solve this problem in your head since you jumped out of my truck last night, haven't you? Maybe since you walked out of this hotel yesterday afternoon. It's got you all twisted up, turned inside out. How'd you sleep last night, Grace? Did you want to shut that brain of yours off? Give the control over to me? Let me take charge until you were mindless, the only thing coursing through your system, pure pleasure? Wouldn't that have been sweet relief, Buttercup?" His voice was like silk, flowing over me, making me shiver with want.

I stared up at him as his eyes glittered down at me. Yes I wanted that. God, I wanted that so badly I ached. I wanted him, needed him. The memory of what he could do for me was so vivid in my mind, I wanted to scream with frustration.

Carson moved closer to me, putting his hands up on the wall to either side of my head, and bringing his thigh up so that my core was resting on it. He reached a hand down and lifted my skirt up so that I was pressed firmly down on him. I moaned out with the pleasure, pressing down harder, my eyelids fluttering closed. God, what was I doing? Suddenly, I couldn't think.

"Does he do this for you, Grace?" he leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "Do you scream out his name when you come?" My eyes felt heavy and I was vaguely aware that I was moving on his leg, bolts of pure arousal pulsating through me. God, it had been so long.

"Answer me, Buttercup, does he do this for you?" Carson ground out, sounding angry now. My eyes focused on him, but skittered away at his question. He froze and I cried out in frustration.

He brought his right hand down and took one finger and put it on my chin again, turning my face until I was forced to look into his eyes. He studied my face for a couple beats. "You haven't slept with him," he said finally, almost expressionless.

My eyes tried to look somewhere else but the rest of his fingers came up to grip my chin, not allowing me to look away. "Why, Grace?" he breathed, his eyes so intense, I felt like they would scald me.

I tried to shake my head. "I… I just…," I whispered.

He studied my face again for several seconds and he grunted, as if he was satisfied with something that he saw. And then his thigh started moving against my core again and I moaned out. I was lost, the sweet relief of the mindlessness he was bringing me more addicting than any drug I could imagine.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked. "If you do, just say the word, and I'll stop."

I shook my head from side to side. "No, don't stop. Don’t stop," I breathed out, sweet, heady pleasure coursing through my veins.

As he moved, he started talking, "I'm not going to play games with you, Grace," he said, his voice smooth and low. "I got a whole lotta shit that I'm pushing aside, against my better judgment, to give things a shot between us."

His hands came down from the wall and moved up my ribcage, opening my jacket. "Why?" I breathed.

He chuckled. "Because apparently when it comes to you, I'm a damn fool," he said, but I heard the smile in his voice even though my eyes had fluttered closed again.

His hands came up to my breasts and his thumbs rubbed my nipples through my thin blouse. I gasped out, a surge of moisture flowing down to my core. Something was… I should stop this, I just… I couldn't think. I didn't want to think.

"I never could purge you from my blood, Buttercup," he whispered. I moaned. I could feel an orgasm just beyond my reach and I wanted it. I wanted it so badly, I was desperate. "I don't think I ever wanted to," he said, moving closer to my ear. "I want you to give us a chance too," he said.