“When are you going to wear some clothes to work, Natalea Jones? For crissakes, your ass is hanging out for all those drunk fucks to see.”
Her eyes widened at the fierce tone in which he spoke. He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a commanding order, but it had.
He caged her in against the door. They stood mere inches apart. Her citrus scent invaded his personal space and clouded his head with all the delicious things he wanted to do to her. He needed to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.
She narrowed her eyes on him and defiance settled on her face. “My ass wasn’t hanging out for anyone to see until you flung me over your shoulder like a fucking caveman.” Her index finger poked into his chest. Her attitude—the “not taking any of his shit” attitude—excited him to no end. All the blood in his head rushed south, making him lightheaded and his cock harder than stone.
“Those damn shorts are too short.” He pinned her with his glare. “And you haven’t seen caveman yet.”
“Ha.” She attempted to duck under his arm, but the feelings coursing through him would not let him let this situation go. What had started out as a fun test of wills between friends had twisted into something more for him. She denied him anything more than their friendship, but he couldn’t help it that he did, in fact, want more.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He grabbed her shoulders and pressed her into the door. She tilted her head, her breath coming out in little pants as her nostrils splayed. Anger flared in her eyes, but he saw something else there too. Something that melted them into liquid honey—desire.
“Drake.” Her voice was husky. Her sweet cinnamon breath hit him in the face as she pretended to struggle against his hold.
“What is it, baby girl?” The nickname had been hers since he remembered. He never questioned calling her by it—even in front of her dates. He dropped his forehead against hers, holding her gaze. “What is it?”
Before he huffed out another word, she snaked her arms up his chest and around his neck, gripping the base of his head tight. Pushing herself up on her tiptoes, she mashed her mouth against his.
(c) Jessica Jayne 2016