Sweet Temptation

“What did you mean, then?” Chugging the rest of her drink, she signaled the bartender for another. “And what the hell kind of nickname is kitten?”

Taking the empty bottle from her, he set it out of the way and stepped into her personal space so quickly that she barely had time to blink. With only a thin ribbon of space between them, she could feel the heat emanating off his body, could smell his cologne, something that probably cost more than she made in a month, but that made her want to take a bite out of him.

What is happening?

Also, she’d never been this close to him, and she was pretty proud of herself for not wrapping a leg around his waist and climbing him like a monkey.

“Well?” she prompted, the silence too full of the unspoken need for comfort. “What did you mean?”

The bartender set her fresh beer on the surface beside them. John picked it up before she could and pressed the cool glass to her decidedly warm lips. Her thoughts spun, a kaleidoscope of confusion and need.

Why does he have to be so damn hot?

“I meant that you deserve someone who wants to be with you for you, not just because you’re a warm, willing body.” He tilted the bottle, and she swallowed the cool liquid that spilled into her mouth. When she licked her lips, his stare followed the movement, and she felt her pulse increase.

Huh. Maybe he hadn’t fully heeded Theo’s warning. Interesting. Now what to do with it?

“What if all I want is a warm, willing body?” she challenged, reaching up to claim her drink. A whisper of a smile ghosted around his lips. “Not all women want a man to put a ring on it, you know.”

“I wouldn’t presume that you would,” he agreed. When he lifted his hand and traced a single finger over the plane of her cheekbone, Meg’s head spun as though she’d had way more than two shots.

Clearly, she’d overestimated her ability to keep her attraction to him under control, but then, she’d never had to withstand such a full-frontal attack.

“You enjoy your fair share of warm, willing bodies. I think that’s fair to say.” She watched as his eyes darkened—had she touched a nerve?

“More than my fair share, probably,” he agreed, gaze intent on her face. He was playing a game here, and he hadn’t shared the rule book, which made her cranky. “But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And you deserve more.”

What the hell? He’d had her thinking, for a moment, that maybe he was still into her, but all he’d wanted to tell her was that what was okay for him wasn’t okay for her?

Mamesie had raised her and her sisters to be strong, independent women who knew what they wanted and went after it. And she was pretty sure that each and every one of them, in this situation, would call bullshit.

“So, you’re saying there’s a double standard here, then.” She stepped back, increasing the space between them until she could breathe again. “You can enjoy as many casual encounters as you want, but I’m supposed to be a good little kitten and wait for someone to come along and cherish me. Well, guess what? Screw that.”

She got enough of this big-brotherly crap from Theo—she didn’t need it from someone she desired. Spinning on her heel, she started to stalk off—she’d find Theo and Jo and inform Theo yet again of just what she thought of him interfering in her love life before insisting that he drive her home as punishment for his crimes.

Before she could take more than two steps, John grabbed her by the wrist, tugging her back toward him. She bared her teeth, daring him to manhandle her, but he did just that, gathering both of her wrists in his large hands and holding them up in front of her.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching her struggle, but she seethed, spitting fire from her eyes.

“Would you let me finish?” he replied mildly, stroking the inside of her wrist with his thumb, distracting her.

How the hell was she supposed to maintain any kind of defense?

“I have nothing against casual encounters, as you so kindly pointed out. To be crude, sometimes just getting off is enough, yes?” He arched an eyebrow but continued before she could reply, “But when I say that you deserve someone who wants to be with you for you, I mean exactly that. It’s like food.”

“I’m not following.” No, she sure wasn’t, but she was suddenly very aware of his mouth, which suddenly seemed very, very close to her own.

“This might make your chef’s self shudder, but we can survive on fast food, right? On food that comes in a box, or a can, that’s quick and easy. It sustains us technically.” He dipped his head, and when his lips brushed the lobe of her ear, Meg felt her knees tremble. Had she thought she was in control here? Stupid, stupid her. She needed to get a grip, though, because he wasn’t trying to turn her on—that was all on her. “But don’t we all deserve a three-course dinner cooked by someone with your skill? Or are you, of all people, going to tell me that those yield the same experience?”

“I like fast food,” she managed, trying not to shudder when his lips moved to the shell of her upper ear. She knew he was only whispering in her ear because it was so loud, but she couldn’t stop the effect it had on her.

He frowned, small lines crinkling around the corners of his eyes. He looked her up and down, gaze lingering on the skin revealed by the low-cut neck of her dress. “I don’t like the idea of you going home with strangers.”

“You do it all the time,” she retorted. He pressed his lips together in a tight line.

“You’re a smart woman. I won’t tell you why that’s different.” He raised a hand as she opened her mouth to yell. “I’m not saying that it’s right, or that it’s just how it is. But you know damn well that there’s a big difference between a man going home with a strange woman for the night, and a woman going home with a man. Bad things shouldn’t happen, but they do, and I don’t want them to happen to you.”

She ground her teeth together in frustration, and a good chunk of the emotion was because he wasn’t wrong.

“Well, what’s a horny single woman to do, then?” She smirked when he choked. “No matter where I meet a man, I can’t be sure that I’m safe until I get to know him. And once I know him, it’s not casual anymore, unless both parties agree.”

“I—” He started to speak, then stopped himself, shaking his head. “Yeah. You know what? That sucks. That really sucks for women.”

Meg gazed at him as he furrowed his brow, clearly working this over, and as she did, an idea formed. It was a bad idea. A very bad one, probably, but after the alcohol she’d consumed and the sensation of his lips on her lobe still making her shiver, it seemed completely logical.

“What’s that look for?” he asked warily. “I know that look. I’ve seen it on Jo. It usually means no good for me.”

“On the contrary, I think this would be very good for you. And for me.” She sank her teeth into her lower lip, and his eyes tracked the movement. Ah. Unless she was very much mistaken, John wasn’t feeling too brotherly at the moment.

“Care to clarify?” When his gaze met hers, she noted that his pupils had swollen, the black edging out the glacial color of his irises until only a thin rim of ice remained.

“You’re a smart man. I bet you can connect the dots.” She sucked in a deep breath—here went nothing. “You like casual sex. I’m looking for casual sex, and I’m not worried that I’m going to get into any kind of trouble with you. Amy would go after you with her tattoo machine, never mind Beth and all those scary-looking tools in her garage.”

“Wait. What?” He gaped at her like something out of a comic book. “What did you just say?”

“I said that Amy would go after you with her tattoo machine.” She knew what he meant, but nerves had flooded her veins, and she needed a moment to recover, to breathe. What had she just suggested? “And Jo... Well, she’d get creative. She’d probably put you in one of her blog posts and claim that you have a small penis.”

“I do not have a small penis,” he informed her. “Also, did you seriously just hit me up for casual sex?”

“What if I did?” Emboldened by the alcohol, though it hadn’t quite drowned out the flutter of nerves in her belly, she inched closer to him. He didn’t pull away. “There was a spark between us that first time we met. If you deny it, you’re lying.”

Testing, she leaned in, just a little. Those pale eyes darkened, the lids lowering to half-mast. Meg felt an answering heaviness in her belly.

“There’s a hole in your theory,” he replied, and she was gratified to hear the slight rasp in his voice. “We know each other. Therefore, it’s not casual.”

“It’s whatever we make it.” Holding her breath, she reached out, laid her palm on his chest. Spread her fingers out slowly, savoring the sensation of the solid muscle beneath her touch. “Weren’t you just saying that we all deserve a gourmet meal once in a while? We know each other. We like each other well enough. Neither of us is looking for anything more than casual. So why should we deny ourselves a gourmet meal?”

A low growl emanated from his throat, and she felt it right between her legs. Her lips parted, and she ran her tongue over them to dampen them as she watched emotions play out over his face.

He liked the idea, that was easy enough to see, but he might still tell her she was crazy and that it wasn’t going to happen. With most men, she could shrug off that kind of rejection—one of the benefits of keeping it casual.

With this man, right here, right now? If he said no, she’d be fine...but she couldn’t deny that it would sting.

“Meg.” Dipping his head, he pressed his forehead to hers. His skin was cool, a sharp contrast to her heat. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

She felt the disappointment as she would a plunge into an icy pool, and she hated that it affected her so much. With a frozen smile, she pulled back, away from his touch, and lifted her chin.

“You’re probably right.” Shit, shit, shit. She was not going to cry. She wasn’t that girl. And why did she even care? “Let’s just pretend I never brought it up, okay?”