One Night Stand
Page 12“Who is it?” My stomach rumbled as I waited for an answer.
“Mr. Tongue.” He said lightly and deliciously. I could picture the look of amusement in his green eyes, even though I couldn’t see them. “Can I come in?” He said, this time speaking slightly louder.
Shit! I groaned inwardly, though I have to admit a thrill of excitement curled my toes up. It was him on the other side of the door wanting to come in. And he was Xander. Shit, Mr. Tongue had a name. A sexy, delicious sounding name and I was drowning in fear and anticipation of speaking to him again.
“Liv?” He said and knocked again.
“Yes?” I squeaked out, not moving, my hands pressed against the door.
“Can I come in?”
“Why?” I swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure I trusted either of us in my bedroom alone. Not after our last time in a private room. Shit, we didn’t even need a private room to get down and dirty. I was willing to be his sexy cowgirl anywhere.
“Can we have this conversation in your room and not through the door?” He laughed. “Unless you’d prefer me to say what I have to say about what happened at the wedding through the —”
“Come in.” I hurried to open the door and pulled his arm into the room. “What do you think you’re doing?” I glared at him.
“Getting you to open the door to your room.” He grinned at me, his eyes looking as merry as I’d imagined them to be.
“I thought we should talk.” He ran his hands through his perfectly silky hair and my eyes followed his fingertips as they glided back and forth. The movement reminded me of other places they had rubbed gently and a tantalizing heat spread through my stomach and downwards.
“You think?” I stared at him with wide angry eyes. I wanted to let him see that I was not okay with what he’d done.
“I know this is somewhat awkward.” He smiled. Obnoxious jerk! How could he be smiling right now?
“You think?” I said again.
“But I think we can work through this.”
“You think?” I said sarcastically and I watched as a huge smile spread across his face, making him even more handsome than before.
“Yes, I do think.” He said and then paused. “Do you know any other phrases, Liv?”“Like what?” I said sarcastically. “I know another phrase. One you might not want to hear. One that goes a bit like I slept with my sister’s dirty dog fiancé and I don’t know what he’s doing in my room?”
“I know that you most probably have questions.”
“It’s not exactly what you think.”
“Oh?”
“We only got engaged this week.”
“This week?” I frowned. “What?”
“Last weekend I did something I regret.” His eyes bore into mine. “And something happened that made me realize that it was time for me to grow up.”
“Last weekend you did something you regret?” I repeated, my face flushing. “Do you mean me?” I glared at him, as my stomach sunk. He regretted sleeping with me? I felt gutted at his words.
“I did do you last weekend, yes.” He grinned. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.” He leaned forward and licked his lips. “That day is nothing I will ever regret.”
“You’re a pig.” I shook my head, mesmerized by the movement of his tongue, so pink and pointy. I shivered just remembering it between my legs. I groaned inwardly as I recalled the feeling of it slipping inside of me. I know, I’m horrible. I should have been shouting at him or slapping him, but instead I was remembering every vivid detail of how rough and gentle his tongue had been. I was growing wet just remembering how much pleasure his seemingly innocent tongue had given me. I hoped that the moisture would cool me down in hell, because those fiery flames were exactly where I was headed.
“I don’t oink.” He teased me and for a second I thought he was about to kiss me.
“Nervous Liv?” He raised an eyebrow at me and took another step towards me.
“Stop saying my name like that.”
“Like what, Liv?”
“Like you’re some sort of Spanish conquistador and I’m the conquest you’re after.”
“But I’ve already had you.” He grinned. “The conquest is over. Done. Complete.” He stepped back and looked around the room. “Nice.” He nodded to the poster of the Backstreet Boys above my bed.
“Everyone I know has a poster of the Backstreet Boys.” I muttered.