Sugar on the Edge (Last Call #3)(33)

Closing the refrigerator door, I turn to stare at her. She looks uncomfortable, as well she should be. I fingered her in the car yesterday, and we barely said two words to each other after. I want to do it to her again, and so much more. Normally, the Gavin Cooke I’ve become would just move in and take what he wanted.

But as she stands there, uncertainty in her eyes, I can’t bring myself to make a move.

I’ve become the anti-hero now.

Max would be disgusted by me.

“No,” I finally say to her. “Not hungry.”

Not for food, anyway.

“Okay,” she says, and I think I see a small level of disappointment in her eyes. She starts to move past me, on her way to the laundry room, I suppose, and I catch a whiff of her perfume. It’s sweet… flowery… innocent. Just like her.

Before I can stop myself, my hand jets out and grabs her by the wrist. “Go to dinner with me tonight?”

She jerks in surprise, and her eyes widen. “Dinner?”

“Yes. It’s this concept where two people sit down at a table and other people serve them food.”

The corners of her mouth tilt skyward, but she asks again, “You want to take me to dinner?”

No, Sweet… I want to ravage you, strip you bare, burrow into you, and pound this compulsion out of me.

“Yes… I want to take you out to dinner.” Which is so f*cking weird, because I don’t wine and dine women. Never needed to before.

“Why?” she asks skeptically.

“Why not? I find I like your company, I don’t know anyone else here, and I’m bored sitting around by myself all the time.”

“Oh,” she says softly as she casts her eyes downward, and I’m surprised by her lack of enthusiasm over my invitation.

Lifting her head up by putting my fingers under her chin, I peer down to look at her. “What’s with the uncertainty?”

She shakes her head as if denying me. “It’s nothing. I mean… I just didn’t think you were the type… never mind.”

“What? That I wasn’t the type to take a woman on a date?” I tell her in a chastising tone.

Her eyes harden a tiny bit, and she smirks at me. “No, you seem like the type to pick a woman up in a bar and then leave with her so you can bang the hell out of her.”

My hand falls from her face as dismay fills me. She clearly heard about the blonde woman I left the bar with the other night. No sense in hiding it though, so I tell it to her straight. “I’m not a saint, Savannah. I like to f*ck. I like to give in to those base urges. So what?”

“Exactly,” she says as she brushes past me. “So what?”

“Wait a minute,” I say as I turn and grab her again. Spinning her around by the arm, I pull her in closer to me. Her breath hitches and her eyes dilate a little, and it’s clear to me… she’s definitely attracted to me in such a way that maybe I don’t have to expend any further energy in seducing her. “Are you saying that you’re okay with just a f*ck between us? You don’t need a romantic dinner and candlelight? Soft words… slow seduction?”

She snorts at me. “I think we completely bypassed that step yesterday, don’t you agree? We went right to the after-dinner dessert.”

“That we did,” I murmur as I pull her in closer, flush up against my body so she can feel how much I want her.

As much as her words seem like a bold statement to me that she doesn’t need the softer side of Gavin, I don’t believe it for a second. Savannah may even be trying to prove to me, at this very minute, that she can play the confident role of a heroine. A woman that knows what she wants and goes for it, no matter what the cost.

Even though that would be a dream come true for me right now, I’m bound and determined to prove she’s not that type of woman.

Bringing my hands up, I cup her under her jawline, my hands circling around her throat. I give a soft squeeze and use my thumbs to stroke just under her chin. “So, I’m getting the feeling from you that maybe you want to finish what we started in the car yesterday?”

Her eyes flare and her tongue comes out to swipe at her lower lip, but she doesn’t affirm or deny my words.

I decide to push harder, because one way or the other, I’m going to make her prove me right.

Releasing her face, I drop my hands to her hips, pulling her up hard against my erection. I dip my legs and tilt my hips up, grinding it against her *.

A soft moan filters across her lips, and her eyes close.

“Want me to f*ck you, Sweet? Want my cock between your legs? Or do you just want to go out to dinner with me tonight? Your choice.”

I hold myself still, waiting for her to just accept my damn dinner invitation and prove me right.

“I want you to f*ck me,” she whispers as she slowly opens her eyes. “Right here… standing up, on the floor… I don’t care.”

My body jerks in surprise, and I almost glare at her with skepticism. She returns my stare levelly, without a hint of hesitation or doubt.

Part of me… a small part, for sure… wants me to deny her and insist we go out tonight. But the vast majority of my body, my brain, my cock… it’s screaming at me to take her.

“Where did my little anti-heroine go?” I ask her in wonder.

“She’s decided to take a walk on the wild side,” she tells me evenly.