he liked that, though he was well aware of the delicacy of her body in comparison to his.
Her face was still pale, her eyes too dark, but she looked composed. Hell, she looked like she was heading to the gallows rather than his bed.
“You aren’t the best salve to my ego, fancy-face,” he told her as he moved through the room, watching her with an edge of amusement.
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She rose slowly to her feet.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
She had never liked being called fancy-face, but that was how he saw her. Her face was a little irregular, her lips pouty and winsome, her nose pert with the slightest little tilt, and high, glorious cheekbones.
She was different in a way that stood out. She wasn’t beautiful in the acceptable sense of the word, rather she was eye-catching, mysterious. Unique.
“Why?” He glanced at the clock and almost winced. Damn, it was nearly two in the morning; no wonder
she looked like she had been run over by a truck. She was exhausted. And so was he.
Now, if he could just convince his cock how tired he was.
“Because I hate nicknames,” she retorted.
Dawg shook his head. “Look, it’s damned late. I just had a killer day, and from the looks of it, yours
wasn’t any better. Let’s sleep on this, then we’ll see how things look in the morning.”
She licked her lips warily. “In separate beds?”
“In your dreams,” he grunted back. “Damn it, Crista, stop waffling like a damned little sissy. Either you’re going to fuck me or you’re not. Let’s get this over with now so we can both get some sleep.”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Crista narrowed her eyes on Dawg, considering the irritation in his expression and the flash of lust in his gaze.
She was trying to keep her eyes off the erection clearly displayed beneath his sweatpants. Okay, she had already made her decision. Sort of.
She was furious over it. It wasn’t enough that she had tried to stay out of his way, that she had rebuffed every overture he had made. Now he had to take the decision away from her, force her to risk her heart to him again, knowing the outcome.
As the minutes had ticked by, she had only become angrier as she showered. It had taken her years to put him behind her enough to even date another man. And still, when the nights were the darkest, she felt the same ragged pain and loss that she had felt that summer, as clearly as she had felt it then.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You haven’t, huh? What are you waiting for?”
Crista clenched her teeth in anger. “I’ll sleep with you.”
His brow arched.
“But I won’t just spread myself for you, Dawg. I can’t just fuck you like that.”
“Spread yourself?” he asked softly, his voice dark as his gaze narrowed back at her. “Like what, Crista?”
“Like one of your damned playmates,” she bit out.
The more he stared at her like that, the more angry she became. Nerves, exhaustion, and the fallout from terror were crashing through her system. On top of that, she had to deal with blackmail by a man she could have never expected blackmail from.
“You are my playmate now.” He grinned back at her, his expression becoming one of intense satisfaction.
“And I do like to play, Crista. You should be aware of that by now.”
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“Aware of it!” The anger snapped through her then. “Dawg, I was aware of it eight damned years ago
when you decided you were drunk enough and horny enough to fuck me without your cousins standing by
to join in. I’m not the one that forgot that fucking night; you are.”
Horror slammed through her. Her hand clapped over her mouth, and the breath stilled in her throat as his expression slowly stilled from amusement, then shock, then outright fury.
She had never seen Dawg mad.
Her face was still pale, her eyes too dark, but she looked composed. Hell, she looked like she was heading to the gallows rather than his bed.
“You aren’t the best salve to my ego, fancy-face,” he told her as he moved through the room, watching her with an edge of amusement.
26 of 183
2/12/2007 8:45 PM
NautiNights
file:///C:/Users/Kathy/Shared/Lora%20Leigh%20Nauti%20Nights.html
She rose slowly to her feet.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
She had never liked being called fancy-face, but that was how he saw her. Her face was a little irregular, her lips pouty and winsome, her nose pert with the slightest little tilt, and high, glorious cheekbones.
She was different in a way that stood out. She wasn’t beautiful in the acceptable sense of the word, rather she was eye-catching, mysterious. Unique.
“Why?” He glanced at the clock and almost winced. Damn, it was nearly two in the morning; no wonder
she looked like she had been run over by a truck. She was exhausted. And so was he.
Now, if he could just convince his cock how tired he was.
“Because I hate nicknames,” she retorted.
Dawg shook his head. “Look, it’s damned late. I just had a killer day, and from the looks of it, yours
wasn’t any better. Let’s sleep on this, then we’ll see how things look in the morning.”
She licked her lips warily. “In separate beds?”
“In your dreams,” he grunted back. “Damn it, Crista, stop waffling like a damned little sissy. Either you’re going to fuck me or you’re not. Let’s get this over with now so we can both get some sleep.”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Crista narrowed her eyes on Dawg, considering the irritation in his expression and the flash of lust in his gaze.
She was trying to keep her eyes off the erection clearly displayed beneath his sweatpants. Okay, she had already made her decision. Sort of.
She was furious over it. It wasn’t enough that she had tried to stay out of his way, that she had rebuffed every overture he had made. Now he had to take the decision away from her, force her to risk her heart to him again, knowing the outcome.
As the minutes had ticked by, she had only become angrier as she showered. It had taken her years to put him behind her enough to even date another man. And still, when the nights were the darkest, she felt the same ragged pain and loss that she had felt that summer, as clearly as she had felt it then.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You haven’t, huh? What are you waiting for?”
Crista clenched her teeth in anger. “I’ll sleep with you.”
His brow arched.
“But I won’t just spread myself for you, Dawg. I can’t just fuck you like that.”
“Spread yourself?” he asked softly, his voice dark as his gaze narrowed back at her. “Like what, Crista?”
“Like one of your damned playmates,” she bit out.
The more he stared at her like that, the more angry she became. Nerves, exhaustion, and the fallout from terror were crashing through her system. On top of that, she had to deal with blackmail by a man she could have never expected blackmail from.
“You are my playmate now.” He grinned back at her, his expression becoming one of intense satisfaction.
“And I do like to play, Crista. You should be aware of that by now.”
27 of 183
2/12/2007 8:45 PM
NautiNights
file:///C:/Users/Kathy/Shared/Lora%20Leigh%20Nauti%20Nights.html
“Aware of it!” The anger snapped through her then. “Dawg, I was aware of it eight damned years ago
when you decided you were drunk enough and horny enough to fuck me without your cousins standing by
to join in. I’m not the one that forgot that fucking night; you are.”
Horror slammed through her. Her hand clapped over her mouth, and the breath stilled in her throat as his expression slowly stilled from amusement, then shock, then outright fury.
She had never seen Dawg mad.
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