Her head fell back on the bar and she raised a leg, put it over his shoulder. “Yes,” she nearly whimpered.
God help her, but she loved what he was doing to her.
Peter rose up enough to look into her face, his own face set in hard lines and his eyes darkly erotic. “Good. I do too.”
Then he put his mouth on her again, sucking gently while his tongue flicked over her sensitive peak and his finger stroked inside her. And she came so hard it brought tears to her eyes.
“Look at me,” he said, his breathing labored and unsteady.
She was floating so high it took an immense amount of energy to lift her head up to look at him. Finally she managed and said breathlessly, “I’m looking.”
“Tell me you want me. That you need to feel me inside you.” It was a demand, his eyes blue fire. Energy poured off of him in intense, reckless waves and her lower belly quivered—in both feminine fear and excitement.
She didn’t even try to lie. “You know I do.” Then she added in a daze, “You’re amazing.”
Peter froze. “What did you just say?”
Her head lowered back down. “I said you’re amazing.”
His hands flexed and squeezed her legs briefly, painfully. Then his eyes shuttered. “Right. You’ve said that before.”
He dropped a kiss on her bare thigh and stepped away, the sudden cold air making her miss the heat of him. “Now we’re even.”
Her brain fuzzy from the onslaught of hormones, Leslie frowned up at him and said, “What?”
“That’s four.”
And then he stalked away, leaving her sprawled across the bar top half-naked with rug burn on her inner thighs.
“HOW COULD YOU leave me like that?” Leslie demanded the minute she entered Peter’s house. To leave her on the bar feeling vulnerable like that. Ugh! How dare he do that to her? And then he’d had the gall to stand outside, looking all dark and sulky under the streetlight while he’d watched her climb inside her car and lock the door.
That was the second time he’d pulled a stunt like that. It was also the second time he’d left her hanging and she was so beyond pissed about it that she could scream. Really, really loud.
And she almost did when he didn’t respond right away. “Kowalskin!” He’d better be ready to grovel like a beggar. “I know you’re here.” His annoying yellow Suck-U-V was in the garage.
Nothing.
Not a peep came from anywhere inside the big house. Leslie flipped on a light and scanned the two-story entryway and sunken living room for signs of the jerk. She couldn’t believe he was hiding.
Was it possible he’d fallen asleep in the few minutes he’d had before she’d arrived behind him?
“No way,” she muttered under her breath. Not unless he was her Grandpa George. That man could fall asleep faster than she could blink. And he did it with his eyes open, which was just way creepy.
As each minute ticked by and she didn’t hear anything coming from upstairs, Leslie’s temper began to deflate. Why does he do this to me? She wondered. He’s so frigging hot and cold.
It was absolutely infuriating.
If she was also a little mad because of just how quickly her convictions about rebuilding her career had imploded as soon as his hands were all over her, well, she was willing to blame that on him too.
Rational or not, Leslie really didn’t care. This was the second time he’d brought her to another world and then left her to come crashing back to earth alone, vulnerable and insecure. The two emotions she hated most. They left her exposed and weak and she just couldn’t deal with feeling that way. Especially over a man. So yes, she was willing to suspend fairness and hang it all on him.
“Peter!” Something almost like paranoia crept into her stomach and dispersed all through her, sending her nerves pinging. Because of him she had almost thrown her one chance at professional redemption away, and she was terrified. Terrified deep down because she knew what it meant.
It meant one of two things. Either she wasn’t nearly as committed to rebuilding her life as she thought she was, or she was willing to throw it all away over Peter because he had a hold on her. The first one she was pretty sure was wrong because every time she thought about giving in to temptation and sleeping with Peter—when she was clear-headed and not strung out on his pheromones—a wall of determination deflected the idea before it could so much as gain a toehold.
The second one was the one that was making her hyperventilate.
How could she possibly have feelings for a man who didn’t even really want her? Self-loathing cut into her. God, wouldn’t that be just like her though? To go and fall for a man who was wrong for her in every possible way? One who, when it came right down to the bottom line, just plain didn’t want her enough? It would be right in line with her history.
At least he couldn’t knock her up and then run off to join the military. That was a step up. Maybe there was hope for her after all.
She shook her head, cynicism boring through her like a termite on rotten wood, and snarled, No, not really.
A shuffle and a thump sounded from up the stairs, turning her pent-up frustration from herself onto Peter. There he was. Now they were going to have it out, whether he wanted to or not. There were things she needed to say.
Leslie kicked off her heels and moved to the stairs, her focus solely on getting to the man causing her so much anguish. One of them landed down the stairs on the living room carpet by the gray chenille sectional. The other flew off somewhere down the hall toward the kitchen.
Taking the stairs two at a time, she hit the landing, marched directly down to his bedroom, and flung the door wide open without even knocking. “We’re going to get a few things straight right now, Kowalskin—” she started and then her vision was suddenly full of wet, naked Peter.
“Damn it, Leslie.” He scowled and reached for the towel he’d tossed on the bed, wrapped it around his waist. “Don’t you knock?”
No, obviously. Otherwise she wouldn’t have just caught an eyeful of the man’s penis. Her inner muscles squeezed with instant and alarmingly potent need. “You bailed on me,” she accused, ignoring the sensation. Vulnerability and insecurity rose inside her again and she crossed her arms protectively.
“Yeah, sorry about that, but I needed air.” The jerk tucked a corner of the towel in at his waist, securing privacy for his personal bits and tossed her a calculated smile. He was trying hard to act nonchalant, but his eyes were coldly distant and she knew that meant he wasn’t really nonchalant at all. Oh no, she knew him well enough by now to know that it actually meant deep down he was boiling.
Fine with her. She was pretty frigging steamed herself. “I want an explanation.”
“For what?” He gave that raised eyebrow look of his, and it just wasn’t fair at all that she responded to it even though she wanted to kick him in the shins.
Like he didn’t know what she was talking about. He was smart as a whip and knew full well what she wanted him to tell her. He just refused to share any tiny little personal feeling he might have. It might make him human like the rest of them if he did. Heaven forbid.
Water dripped from his jet-black hair and fell in droplets down the flat corrugated expanse of his stomach. A black happy trail disappeared beneath the fluffy white cotton and, as she’d just seen, ended in a patch of curly hair that surrounded a very impressive package. She wished it were teeny. Then she wouldn’t be so wound up over it.
Probably.
They stood across the room from each other, staring hard and not speaking. Finally Leslie braced her legs apart like she was preparing for battle and tipped her chin. “I need to know why, Peter.”