As far as seduction went, that was a wonderful start. Now, if only she was more certain of who had just been seduced.
“That was fun,” Dani managed after a moment, hoping she sounded more in control than she felt.
Zaf blinked rapidly, each flick of those long, dark lashes almost hypnotic. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough at the edges, crumbling like brick. “Okay. Yeah. That. Fun. You—think so?”
“Yes,” she repeated slowly, because he’d clearly gone a bit dizzy. At least she wasn’t the only one who’d temporarily lost control of her faculties. Dani leaned into his erection, and felt a wave of reassurance when he sucked in a breath and screwed his eyes shut. This was how things were supposed to go; people touched, bodies reacted, promises of pleasure were fulfilled. She gave what she was capable of, and he accepted.
Yes. All was absolutely in order. And if she’d felt some odd, additional, heart-pounding, hand-shaking need that was flavored distinctly like Zaf, as if he, specifically, mattered—well. Clearly, that was another sign. The universe’s final kick, just to make sure she took the hint.
“Are our watchers still here?” Dani asked, because someone had to say something, and she didn’t want to scare him off by suggesting they find an unoccupied bathroom somewhere.
“No,” Zaf said. “No, they’re gone.” Then he stepped back, putting some space between them, and said awkwardly, “I need to . . . get rid of this.” A nod southward.
A delighted grin spread over her face. “Zafir!” Maybe he’d be up for the bathroom after all.
“Not like that,” he snorted. “I meant I need you to leave.”
“Oh.” She tried not to pout. “Fair enough.”
“Sorry, by the way. About, er . . .”
“Stabbing me in the stomach with your massive cock? That’s okay.”
Zaf coughed, spluttered, managed to choke on fresh air, then bent double as he wheezed. Dani watched him in mild alarm. Clearly, it would take a while to open his starry, romantic eyes to his destiny of being casually screwed by one Danika Brown on a semiregular basis. Aaand Zaf was still coughing. Should she administer the Heimlich? Maybe, but she wasn’t entirely confident she could get her arms around him . . .
Before she could further consider the logistics, Zaf caught his breath and straightened up, his cheeks flushed dark. “Bloody hell, Danika. And here I was worried about freaking you out.”
“What? Am I supposed to be offended that kissing me gets you going? It’s just a bodily function, Zaf.”
“Oh, never mind,” he muttered, throwing up his hands and looking as if he generally despaired of her. “You try to be a gentleman—”
“Attempting to be gentlemanly after fucking my mouth was never going to work.”
“I did not fuck your mouth,” he said, apparently quite outraged. “I just—actually, you know what? This conversation is not helping my dick. Go away. My lunch break ends in”—he checked his watch and swore—“five minutes. Seriously, disappear.”
“Fine,” she snickered, “but we need to swap numbers so we can coordinate shenanigans.”
“Shenanigans,” he repeated dryly.
“Well, I’m not going to say ‘so we can coordinate our fake relationship,’ am I?”
“But you just said it.”
She narrowed her eyes and muttered, “Shut up and give me your phone.”
Zaf was used to sleepless nights. No matter how hard he tried, nine times out of ten, his brain wouldn’t turn off without the help of medication. But, since that same medication made his early mornings at work a fucking nightmare, he tended to save it for the weekends. So, spending Wednesday night staring at his bedroom ceiling? Pretty routine.
But the kaleidoscope of need coloring his mind was nothing he’d ever dealt with before.
Danika, Danika, Danika. Hours had passed since he’d seen her, but she still dominated his thoughts. He’d been trying so hard to stop wanting her so badly—but then she’d agreed to be his fake girlfriend and kissed the sense out of him. So what the hell was he supposed to do now?
Be grateful for the help and wank over the kiss, apparently.
He’d already jerked off twice—once as soon as he got home, once in the shower after a Tackle It session—but he was ready to go again. Which, for a thirty-one-year-old man, could not be healthy. Then again, like she’d said: It’s just a bodily function.
Right. Except he’d kissed other women and managed to walk away without developing the libido of a fucking rabbit. Of course, he couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had sparked in his chest like this, had left him on the edge of combustion in a thousand ways. He’d wanted to grab her the second she’d let go, and his hands still ached to hold her now.
Meanwhile, she’d probably forgotten all about it.
It was depressing, how that possibility—no, that probability—got him down.
“I’m too fucking old for this,” he muttered—the horniness and the crush. But he was still thinking of her, because he couldn’t stop, and his cock was hard and in his hand beneath the covers, because of course it was. The tiny, breathless noises Dani had made as he kissed her filled Zaf’s ears like surround sound. His free hand flexed around the ghost of her lush hip. Her taste, cool mint and honeyed brilliance, flooded his mouth like water after a drought. He was remembering the rhythm of her desperate, hitching breaths, squeezing his dick as his balls tightened, when the sound of his phone’s text tone startled him out of his skin.
For fuck’s sake.
Zaf groaned, teetering on the edge of ignoring that bloody thing for once. Then he sighed, gave up on his dick, and picked up the phone. He never could ignore a text or a call. It wasn’t as if everyone in the world had his number, only the people who needed it—the people who might need him.
Squinting at the harsh light of the display, he saw Danika’s name and felt his heart kick
