He pressed his thumb to the wide, soft curve of her lower lip.
Eyes on that curve, he said, “So . . . what? You here looking for a quick fuck, Keelie?”
She jerked, tried to pull away.
He didn’t let her, leaning his weight more heavily against her although he knew full well he might be tasting his balls, bloody and broken, in his throat in a moment.
“Back off,” she bit off.
“No.” He dipped his head, rubbed his lips against hers, and when she averted her head, he skimmed them along her neck. “I’m just trying to see the picture that’s so obvious for you. I mean, I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me for . . . hell, three years now, if I remember right.”
Three years. Eight month. Two weeks? Not that he was counting, really.
When she did nothing, said nothing, just watched him with those inscrutable eyes of blue and brown, he leaned in and buried his face against her hair. Black and white again, the chunks of black framing her face.
“What’s this obvious thing I’m missing, Keelie?” he asked.
Then his eyes just about crossed, because instead of outright answering, she twined long, long legs around him and arched, pressing the heat of her sex against him and rocked. “This . . .” That pink flush rode her cheeks, hotter now, brighter, while her eyes practically glittered at him. “This. Isn’t it obvious what’s going on?”
Zane couldn’t help it. He caught her hips in his hands, his fingers digging into the curve of her ass as he leaned into her and rocked against her, hard, fast. Once, twice.
She shuddered and met him. And when he stopped, she whimpered.
He slid a hand up, closed it over her throat. The mad beat of her pulse against his palm drove him insane. He wanted to cover that fragile bit of skin with his mouth and bite down, suck on her skin until she shivered and whispered his name.
Instead, he said, “There are a lot of names for what this is. A quick fuck, like I mentioned. Keelie, that’s easy, and either one of us can get it any way. I’ll be honest . . . that’s not what I want from you.”