“Babe.” His dark eyes sway to my mouth, and during the brief pause of silence, my hormones dare my fingers to reach out and touch him. “We passed professional a few minutes ago when I heard about your secret pole dancing stunt, not to mention, seeing your intimate apparel. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head with a low tsk-tsk. “There’s just no going back from that, Jaylyn.”
“You must try.” I clutch the gown to my chest, loathing the way my name sounds spoken in his low, raspy distinctive voice … loathing the way I want to hear him whisper it in my ear while he’s …
“Not gonna happen.” He taps my thigh as though it’s been settled. “Now, you need a ride home, and I’m here, willing, and able.”
“I don’t want a ride home from you!” I don’t want anything from him, nor do I want to be alone with him. I don’t want him at my apartment, the very place where I need to go to put some clothes on. I need clothes. I need my yoga pants and a tee shirt—a stained, already worked out in, smelly, offensive tee shirt. The getup I have on, the way Steele Kane’s looking at me … God, I haven’t felt this sexy since …
“No, maybe not, but the way I see it, what you want really doesn’t matter right now, does it? Or would you rather stay here for the night?” His head tilts back, and a wolfish grin strikes his mouth as though he already knows the answer. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold this naughty little stunt against you. I like to play dirty, but I’d never resort to blackmail, extortion, or using force. At least, not the unwanted kind to get what I want.” He winks.
“And what exactly do you want?” I sit up straight, ignoring the sexy little twitch of his left eye.
“Only to get you safely home.”
I glare at him, tightening the gown around me. “And that’s it?”
“Yes, Miss Rigsby, that is it.”