Real (Real, #1)(4)

I guess fangirl doesn’t want to be considered a dime a dozen.

As she gains confidence, her tongue taunts mine in a dizzying barrage of maneuvers. My fingertips snake up the bare skin of her inner thigh—smooth softness just pleading for me to lick, suck, and nip. I reach the swatch of lace at my awaiting heaven just begging to be ripped off.

“Sweet Jesus,” I murmur as I feel how wet the material is, how ready she already is for me.

“No. No—I can’t do this!” She pushes me back a step, and I watch her bring a trembling hand to her mouth. Her eyes tell me no, but her body? Her treacherous body vibrates with anticipation: chest heaving, lips swollen, nipples pebbled.

I force myself to swallow. To breathe. To regain the equilibrium she just shook and pulled out from under my always steady feet. I’ve had more women than any guy could ever ask for, but she just rocked my f*cking world with her lips alone.

She’s not going anywhere.


“It’s a little late, sweetheart. It looks as if you already have.” Like you have any f*cking choice now. You started this, fangirl, and I’ll say when it’s finished.

Fire leaps into her eyes and she lifts her chin in insolence. My God, that look alone gives new meaning to the word sexy.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she spits at me. “Touching me like that? Taking advantage of me that way?”

We’re back to the damsel in distress thing again? “Really?” I scoff at her, running my hand over my jaw as I ponder what to say next.

It’s a little late for self-preservation, sweetheart.

“That’s how you want to play this? Were you not participating just now? Were you not just coming apart in my arms?” I can’t help the sliver of a laugh that escapes. “Don’t fool your prim little self into thinking that you didn’t enjoy that. That you don’t want more.”

I take a step closer and I can see a mixture of emotions flicker in her eyes. But most of all I see fear and denial. Resistance. Is she going to ignore what just happened between us? Fangirl just might be crazy after all. But f*ck-all if I don’t already crave my next taste of her.

And I have every intention of having it.

She watches as I lift my hand and trace a finger along the line of her cheek. Despite the hard set of her jaw, she instinctively moves her face ever so subtly in response to my touch. Oh yeah. She’s definitely still interested, so why is she fighting it so hard?

“Let’s get one thing clear,” I warn through gritted teeth, trying to mask my irritation at having to fight for something that all of a sudden became complicated. “I. Do. Not. Take. What’s. Not. Offered. And we both know, sweetheart, you offered. Willingly.”

She jerks her chin from my fingertips. Who knew defiance could be so goddamn arousing? And irritating. I can’t remember the last time I had to work to get a woman beneath me.

Her body vibrates with anger. Or desire. Of which I can’t tell. I step back into her personal space, pissed at myself that I’ve allowed her to affect me this much.

“That poor defenseless crap may work with your boyfriend who treats you like china on a shelf, fragile and nice to look at. Rarely used.” I shrug as if I don’t care, but all I want is a reaction out of her. Anything to tell me what she’s thinking behind her stoic fa?ade. “But admit it, sweetheart, that’s boring.”

“My boy—“ she stutters, hurt flashing in her eyes. Hmm. She must have just broken up with him. Perfect time for a pump and dump, then. “I’m not fragile!”


“Really?” I want to push more buttons. Get her to admit she wants me. I reach out and grip her chin with my thumb and forefinger to make sure she can’t hide from my stare. “You sure act that way.”

She jerks her chin from my hand as “Screw you!” grates from between her beautiful lips. The heat in her eyes holds me captive.

And to think I was going to pass up fangirl without a second thought.

“Oh, you’re a feisty little thing!” I can’t help the smirk on my lips. If she’s this lively now, I can only image how wild she’ll be between the sheets. “I like feisty, sweetheart. It only makes me want you that much more.”

So many emotions pass over her face that I can’t begin to comprehend them. She steps to the side of me, putting distance between us in our silent stand-off. Just as I think she’s about to speak, the door down the hallway opens, flooding the quiet corridor with noise from the party beyond. Right before fangirl whirls around at the sound, I see a flicker of relief on her face.

I glance around her to see an average-sized guy standing with his back to the door, eying us with blatant curiosity. For a second I can’t place him, but then realize I saw him earlier with some of the Corporate Care bigwigs. “Rylee? I really need those lists. Did you get them?”

Rylee? What the f*ck?

“I got sidetracked,” she mumbles to the guy as she glances back at me, her expression a mix of relief, regret, and disappointment. She works with him? For Corporate Cares? She says something else to the guy that I don’t hear because I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that crazy fangirl isn’t a fangirl at all.

Or crazy.

Rylee. It sounds vaguely familiar. I mentally roll her name around on my tongue, liking the way it sounds, the way it feels.

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