Page 6 of Playing Hard to Get

“This is new,” I said, trying hard to keep my mind from free falling straight into my fantasies.

Mitch watched as I strapped myself in. When I met his eyes, he smiled at me. “Lee thought it was time I upgraded. I think it’s his way of trying to get me to leave the slums.”

Lee Bridgewater. Mitch’s old roommate, now his boss. He came barreling into my life after that fire, and his presence made what was going on between me and Mitch fizzle. “He gonna sell?”

“Nah. He paid off the mortgage and plans on keeping it as a safe house. Dropped my rent, too.”

Laughing, I said, “Not much of an incentive to move out.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Mitch turned on the ignition and backed out of his parking space. We were out on the street for less than a minute when he reached over and placed his hand on my thigh. His fingers made little circles against my skin as he drove. The heater spit out cool air, and I needed it. Because being in Mitch’s presence, having his hand on my leg, was making my temperature rise.

Mitch laughed at me as we started through the slums, when I sank lower in my seat. The deep rumble got me more flustered as his hand slid up my thigh, and I was wishing I had another stiff drink. Or another stiff something.

This night was going to be hard.

Mitch pulled into the garage out behind his house and lowered the door. He didn’t say anything as he turned to me, but he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered against my skin, his eyes locked on mine. Without a word, he unfastened his belt and got out, walking around to my side of the car.

With my hand in his, Mitch led me in through the back door, past the disgusting yellow-on-yellow mudroom, and into the gorgeous kitchen. That was the funny thing about this house. The outside and the outer rooms all matched the neighborhood—falling apart and awaiting condemnation from the city. But the inside was another story. The kitchen and living room were all high-end and beautiful, as were the two-bedroom suites upstairs, and the suite Lee used to live in down in the basement. It was where he started his little security company Mitch worked for.

Mitch stopped in the kitchen and turned to me. I rested my back against the granite tile countertop and he stepped up close. With his hands on the counter on either side of me, he grinned that devilish grin.

“Can I get you anything, darlin’?”

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say he could get undressed and lie down right there on the tile floor so I could ride him like a cowgirl. But I couldn’t do that. I shook my head, and my voice shook too. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Mitch closed the little distance between us, pressing his hard body against mine as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. His lips were like fire as they made their way up my throat, and I let out a quiet moan before our lips met.

He tasted good, like scotch and an underlying sweetness that made my tongue grow a mind of its own and try to mate with his. I ran my hands over the hard muscles in his chest and stomach before stopping at his hips. He hadn’t moved his hands from the countertop, and I was both saddened and pleased. I didn’t know if I could stop myself if he touched me. And I needed to stop.

“Mitch?” I was panting as I pulled away from him.

His eyes were hooded as he looked at me through those dark lashes. “Yes, darlin’?”

“I'm tired.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth. It was, however, enough to get him to stop.

Mitch took my hand, brushed his lips slowly across my knuckles, then led me up the steps. He stopped in front of the door to the spare room and pushed it open. “In here tonight?”

Nodding, I looked into the room. It was nothing like his bedroom. Nothing at all. It was light and breezy like the sun was shining in. I walked in and took a seat on the queen-size bed. Mitch stepped into the room a minute later holding one of his old black t-shirts in his hand. He leaned down, his face close to mine, and laid it in my lap.

“Sweet dreams, darlin’.” His lips brushed mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, before he stepped back and walked to the door. He stopped at the threshold and looked over his shoulder at me. “You need me for anything, you know where to find me, yeah?”

The taste of his tongue was thick in my throat, and I had to force the words out. “Night, Mitch.”

When the door was closed, I fell back onto the bed. Mitch's shirt smelled like him, and I pulled it to my nose and buried my face in it. Beyond the fact that he and all the things I secretly wanted to do with him were off limits, Mitch was not the kind of guy I’d waste any time thinking of. We were too different. I’d grown up rich while he’d grown up poor. I was guarded, disciplined, and controlled, while he was rough around the edges and flirted with every woman he met. What we wanted out of life couldn’t possibly be the same.

But we’d become unlikely friends last year, and for months now, he’d been in my dreams every night. Dreams of a dark room covered in red silk, full of the kind of pleasure I was sure only a man like him could give me.

In the sandy-colored en-suite bathroom, I took my dress off before slipping on Mitch’s beat-up old t-shirt. I washed my face and used a brand-new toothbrush I found in the drawer. My fantasies took control of my mind as I got ready. I was left flustered and disappointed when I returned to the room that looked like a cabin on the beach.

I cursed the beautiful room as I shut out the light and crawled into bed. The sheets were a high thread count and felt wonderful against my overly sensitive skin. I closed my eyes and pictured Mitch's gorgeous face. Then, like I had so many times since the day I met him, I reached beneath the covers. My lace panties were soaked. I slid my hand inside and touched my swollen lips. I pictured Mitch beside me. I pictured the tattoo I’d heard covered his body, from his hairline down to his ankles. Then I pictured his naked body on top of me, pumping into me hard as I screamed out his name.

“Mitch,” I whispered. God, how I wished it was him inside me. I’d done this so often, I knew exactly what to do. With images of Mitch’s body in my head, I curled my fingers, rubbing at the one spot I knew would give me the release I wanted. My insides tightened, too soon. The explosion of my orgasm raced through my body and I was breathing hard as I came down from my high.

I wanted to taste him again. His tongue, his lips, his body.

Fuck control. To hell with doing what was right. No one would ever know.

Just this once.