Play With Me (With Me In Seattle)(4)

By: Kristen Proby



“I don’t know you well enough to like or dislike you.”

“I call bullshit,” he says calmly.

“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug and turn to the sink to wash my hands and apply my lip gloss, while Will’s eyes never leave me.

“What?” I ask and turn around.

“Why don’t you just tell me what I did to piss you off so I can go ahead and hit on you?”

I burst out laughing, making him scowl, which makes me laugh even harder.

“You really are an arrogant asshole, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.” He’s dead serious, not finding this situation funny at all.

“Yeah, you are. I don’t want you to hit on me.”

He shrugs as if what I want is of no consequence. “I’m not an asshole, Meg. What did I do to offend you so much?”

I stop laughing and clear my throat, and take a moment to just really look at him. He looks sincere. But I will never get the looks of disappointment in my patients’ eyes out of my head.

“It doesn’t matter,” I repeat.

Will pushes himself off the door and crosses to me, pinning me against the bathroom counter, his hands resting on the granite on either side of me at my hip. He doesn’t touch me, but leans in so his nose is just about twelve inches from mine.

“It does matter,” he murmurs.

“Why?” My heartbeat has just gone into overdrive and oh, God, he smells so good. I’m blaming my fuzzy head on the over-abundance of wine I’ve consumed with very little food.

“I need you to tell me what I did to piss you off so I can apologize.” He leans back, just a few inches, and his eyes travel down my body leisurely. I can feel the heat from his gaze and I feel my skin warm. His eyes travel back up to my face and he pins me with his hot blue gaze. “You look amazing in this little dress with your heels and your auburn hair all curly and messy around your sweet face.”

“Um…” What was the question?

“Tell me.” He insists.

“Tell you what?” I whisper.

He grins and whispers back, “What I did to piss you off, Meg.”

“I’ve repeatedly sent messages to your PR people for the past two years asking for you and your team to come up and see my kids. Every request has been shot down, saying that you’re not interested.”

He frowns and slightly shakes his head. “I’ve never received anything from PR about going to Children’s.”

“Right,” I respond sarcastically and try to pull back so I can’t smell his musky scent. It’s doing things to me.

I want to lick his neck.

“I’m not lying. They field a lot of requests for me. It was never passed on to me.”

Oh.

Well, crap.

“Why didn’t you just have Jules talk to me about it? Or get my number from her?”

“Right,” I snort. “First, she’s my friend and I’m not going to use her for stuff like that, and second, why would I call you? I don’t know you.”

Will smiles softly and raises a hand to my face, tips my chin up with his forefinger, making me look him in the eye. He’s so tall, he towers over me, but he’s leaning down to me. His bright blue eyes watch me lick my lips and when I bite my lower lip he inhales sharply and pins my dark eyes in his gaze.

His hand lightly cups my jaw and he raises his other hand to lightly brush my hair back off my shoulder, and I am just lost in his eyes. I can’t move. I should push him away. I don’t do this. I don’t let strange men touch me in public restrooms while their entire family sits outside chatting and laughing and eating.

But I can’t look away.

He lowers his face to mine, brushes my lips ever so gently, smiles down at me in that cocky way that he’s known for, and sinks into me, burying his hands in my hair, holding my face so he can move his mouth against mine.

Holy shit, he’s good at this kissing stuff. His lips are soft, yet firm, and that somehow makes perfect sense to me. They move with precision and purpose, across my lips and back again. I moan and wrap my arms around his waist, lean into him, and Will groans against me and suddenly this kiss has turned into not just want, but need. His tongue invades my mouth, twirling and dancing with my own. I reach up, wrap my arms around his neck and twist my fingers into his gloriously soft hair and practically climb up him, trying to get closer.

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