12.2
I step back from him, my heart racing. There's a damn good chance my face is as red as the shade of the boots I'm wearing. "I thought I made myself clear when you and Nathaniel signed up to join me at the ranch," I state primly. "Nothing's going to happen that's unprofessional or inappropriate."
Adriano grins. "I think you're the first woman to play hard-to-get with me ever."
I bristle at his arrogance, despite my body's obvious attraction to him. "First of all, I'm not playing hard-to-get, because this isn't a game."
Adriano doesn't seem put off at all by my statement. "It's definitely a competition."
"Second of all," I continue. "I find it hard to believe that all women throw themselves at you. Wait – what do you mean, it's a competition?"
"You find it hard to believe that women throw themselves at me? With all this I have going on?" he asks, gesturing to himself.
I roll my eyes. "Your humility is admirable."
"No reason to be humble when you're honest, sugar. And you're not being honest with yourself."
"Of course I'm honest," I sputter. "What in the world would I not be honest about?"
Adriano gives me his crooked grin again. "That Nathaniel and I are going to be professional or businesslike or friendly or whatever-the-hell."
My eyes narrow. "You agreed."
"Oh, I'll be appropriate – right up until you ask me not to be."
I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. "You think I'm going to ask you to be inappropriate?"
"I don't think so. I know so."
"You're appallingly arrogant.”
Adriano shrugs, nonplussed. "I'm honest."
"And you honestly think I'm going to ask you to cross a line with me?" I fold my arms over my chest.
"Yep." He grins. "Admit it. You've thought about me."
"We want to hear you say it," Adriano commands, his fingers under my jaw as he tilts my head back toward him. His other hand pinches my nipple harder, sending a shock of pain through me - except that instead of hurting, it adds to the sensation. "Tell us how you want us to fuck you.”
"I have not." I practically choke on the words, my mind consumed by the thought of what I’ve imagined Adriano doing to me.
Adriano lets out a laugh, low under his breath. "Liar," he says softly as he leans close to me, his mouth near my ear. I shiver as the heat of his breath wafts over my skin, sending goose bumps across my body. "It's written all over your face. How did I do it when you thought about it? Did I pull up your skirt and bend you over the desk in your office? Was I on my knees with my tongue in your pussy?"
I put my hand firmly against his chest, intending to push him immediately away, except it lingers for a second too long, my fingers pressing against his hard muscles. For a second, I think he's going to kiss me.
Then, I want him to kiss me. I want him to pick me up and take me straight to the ranch house.
I want him to do a million dirty things with me.
No. I exhale heavily, stepping back from him. "No," I lie, my voice thick with lust. "I'm not going to ask you to cross a line. It's never going to happen."
"Never?" Adriano asks.
"That's right," I reiterate firmly.
"That's a shame," he says. "How long has it been since you’ve been fucked, good and hard? I mean, really fucked. Like toe-curling, hair-pulling, back-scratching, break-the-bed and scream-down-the-walls fucked?"
He asks the question like he's asking when's the last time I had scrambled eggs for breakfast, like this is a totally normal topic of conversation.
The answer is never, by the way. As if I'm going to admit that to him.
"Last week," I lie, attempting to sound breezy.
Adriano arches one eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Last week?"
"Yep."
"Liar."
"Could have happened."
"Not a chance."
"Of course it could have. You don't know."
"Oh, I think I know when a woman is in need of a good fuck."
"That's probably one of the most misogynistic things I've ever heard."
"Don't know what that means, sugar tits.” He winks at me.
I roll my eyes. "Classy."
One of the camp counselors waves at us, heading in our direction, and Adriano grins. "I'm going to go be professional now."
"It's always good to learn a new skill," I say.
"Mr. Jackson," the camp counselor interrupts from yards away, waving him in her direction. Adriano turns to walk away when I realize he never answered that one question I asked.
"Wait. What did you mean by competition?"
Adriano turns around to face me. "Between Nathaniel and I," he answers. "For you, obviously."
"I'm not a prize," I call to his retreating figure.
Adriano laughs. "Neither are we, sugar."
