“No,” he lied.

“Right.” She snorted and tugged again on her end of the cuffs.

Then she saw the diary. Her diary. Eyes huge with horror, she grabbed for it. But he’d been expecting that. Quickly he passed it into his other hand and dangled it out over the side of the mattress, keeping it out of reach.

“What are you doing with that?” she screeched.

“Didn’t I tell you? I went to pick up your stuff yesterday.”

“Give it to me!” Roslyn lunged, attempting to clamber over him. He grabbed a fistful of her sweater with his cuffed hand, holding her back. Her other arm thrashed futilely about for the notebook. “Nick!”

His eardrums rang. “Noise.”

“Give that to me,” she hissed, hand waving. Obviously she’d given no thought at all to the way she was wriggling on top of him. His morning hard-on roared back to life. Reading her thoughts on other men had cooled him off, but this sort of stimulation he couldn’t ignore.

“So, this Tim guy, he refused to go down on you?”

“Nick.” His name was a short, sharp bark.

“Any heterosexual male who doesn’t like eating pu**y is a f**king idiot, don’t you think?”

“Give it.”

“I mean, honestly. What’s not to like? Pussies are such fun.”

“Nick.” Her fingers clawed at his arms. There’d be marks later. He grinned and she growled.

“All hot and wet and juicy. And each one tastes different. And looks different.”

He liked it when she growled. Maybe he liked it a little too much. His body seemed fine-tuned to her every reaction. His cock, of course, poked her in the hip and she had to notice, no matter how mad she was.

And yeah, she did notice. Her eyes narrowed, homing in on his face. As if it was his fault.

He just shrugged. “Look at yourself. You’re all over me. It’s confusing for my dick. We don’t know what you want.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you actually talking about your dick in the first person?”

“You can give it a name if you like.”

“‘Inadequate’?” Her hand made a swipe for the book. “Oh, no. ‘Piteous’.”

“There’s no need to be nasty.”

“‘Pathetic’,” she crowed, well pleased with herself.

Such a smartass, was Roslyn.

Which was when he decided to play too.

Nick flicked his wrist and sent the diary skimming across the floor, safely out of the way. In one smooth move he flipped her off him and onto her back, straddling her in two seconds flat. Three at the most. Another second to slip a knee between her legs, and then he lay exactly where she didn’t want him, not ever, according to the look on her face. Her lips parted and her eyes flashed fire, most definitely not friendly. Her hands shoved at his shoulders and her head turned from side to side, searching for an exit.

“Get off me,” she said.

“I think we need to get something straight.” He grabbed her wrists and drew them out of the way, nice and safe on the pillow above her head. The first press of his hard-on between her legs had her back flattening and butt shifting, desperate to get away. His h*ps pressed down, holding her in place.

“Stop it,” she said.

“So Tim wouldn’t go down on you and Brandon couldn’t get you off, hmm?” He gave her a grim smile and rocked against her, rubbing against her pu**y. Only the thin material of his sweatpants and the even thinner flannel of her pajama bottoms stood between them. “What did you expect, with a name like ‘Brandon’?”

“Because ‘Nick’ is so manly.”

He’d have laughed if his dick wasn’t killing him. “Why do you think you never stayed with any of them for more than five minutes? What’s your take on that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get off me.” Her h*ps shuffled sideward, or attempted to, but she wasn’t escaping him. Next she dug in her heels and tried to push him off. All that did was open her legs up more to him. The sudden hike in her brows when she realized it was priceless. “Don’t.”

“Two, three dates and you lost interest.”

“Or they did. Stop, damn it.” Her hand flailed for the headboard but that wouldn’t help her either. “Nick.”

“You think they lost interest?”

“Generally that’s what it means when people don’t text you back or ask you out again.”

“Why?”

She shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she still wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know the right things to say.”

“Hmm. Maybe. But none of them really did it for you, anyway.” He stared at her pretty, screwed-up face, thinking it over. “Even Craig the footballer didn’t turn you on, despite the hot body.”

“Much like you, Nick,” she sneered, all bravado. Pity he didn’t believe it for a minute. He was getting to her. The ni**les poking into his chest and the way her body had begun to vibrate beneath him confirmed it. “Get the f**k off me.”

“That sounded like a challenge to me.”

Panic filled her eyes. “No. No, it wasn’t.”

“Mm.”

Back and forth he stroked her with the length of his hard cock. So good he could barely believe it. Molten heat poured through him. He wanted to close his eyes, savor the moment, but he didn’t. Ros stared back at him in dawning horror, which seemed to be her go-to look with him. Never mind. He was determined to make her feel lots of other things. Good things, starting now.