“In your dreams, asshole.” I hold my head up high as I brush past him, deliberately shoulder-checking him. I browse through the clothes hangers.
His strong arms wrap around me from behind, and I’m hauled back against his warm chest. “I don’t think so, baby,” he whispers. He runs his nose along the column of my neck as one hand moves up to cup my left boob. He kneads my flesh roughly, and a strangled cry escapes my mouth at the pleasure-pain sensation his touch invokes. While my breasts aren’t quite as sensitive as they were a few weeks ago, they are still tender. Pressing his growing erection into my ass, he licks my neck and nips my earlobe, and liquid warmth floods to my core. “You’ll be on your knees begging me to fuck you before the week is out.”
“Still delusional, I see,” I retort, attempting to remove his hand from my breast.
“Keep denying it, but I don’t believe you.” He moves his hand down lower, pausing momentarily on my belly, and I squeeze my eyes shut at the rapid onslaught of emotion. His hand is on the move again, and I whimper when he slides one finger inside me, thrusting his solid hard-on into my ass and grinding his hips. “Liar,” he whispers, pumping his finger slowly in and out of me.
That one word brings reality crashing down upon me, and it’s all I need to come to my senses. Jerking my elbow back into his gut, I free myself and spin around with rage rampaging across my face. I poke my finger in his chest, as fire incinerates me on the inside. “There’s only one liar in here, and it isn’t me!” I screech. “You have some nerve”—I prod his chest with my finger again—“calling me deceitful and a liar when every word out of your despicable mouth has been a deliberate manipulation of me!” I slam my palms into his chest, shoving him forcefully as weeks of pent-up frustration run free. “I fucking hate you!” I scream. “And I hate this Godawful chemistry between us! But I will fight it. Like I’ll fight you.” I pound my fists into his chest while he stands mute as a statue, letting me hit him, examining me like I’m some weird alien creature. “Every. Fucking. Step. Of. The. Way!”
“Ahem.” A throat clearing pulls my gaze away from Kai.
“What?!!” I snap at Sawyer, halting my attack.
“Quit fucking around, and get out here. We need to talk.” His eyes drop down my body, and I remember I’m stark naked.
Freaking awesome.
“You might want to put clothes on first.” Sawyer licks his lips as he fixates on my breasts. “Although it seems a shame to cover those beauties.” He waggles his brows, and Kai comes out of his semi-comatose state, whipping me behind him and shielding my body from sight.
“Get the fuck out before I knock you into next week.”
“Losing your touch, Anderson,” Sawyer taunts, backing out with a smirk on his face.
Silence descends, and we stare at one another for a few beats. But I’ve said what I wanted to say, and I need to stop sharing air space with him, so I focus on the closet, inspecting the clothes as I try to find something to wear. I choose a short black cotton jersey dress with long sleeves, because all the jeans and pants look way too long. Kai watches me silently, and I ignore him, giving him my back as I pull the dress over my head.
“Underwear and bra,” he barks.
“I’m not putting some other woman’s underwear on even if it is clean.” I fold my arms across my chest.
“I can see your fucking nipples,” he hisses.
“Tough.” I move to go past him, but he stops me.
“Stay. Here. And don’t test me. You might be pregnant, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put you over my knee and spank the shit out of you.”
Liquid lust floods my body at his words, and he smirks. “Told you.” He presses his mouth to my ear. “Liar.” He slides his hand up under the dress, brushing the tips of his fingers along my slit. “And if the others weren’t outside, I’d drop to my knees and prove it.”
My knees wobble, threatening to go out from under me, and I inwardly curse my stupid, weak hormones. He kisses the top of my head while winding an arm around my lower back to steady me. “It’s okay, baby. I missed you too.” I don’t need to look at him to see the gloating smirk, because it’s all too obvious in his tone.
I flip him off, pouting and glaring at his retreating form, wondering how he’s maneuvered into pole position.
It won’t last long though, and I’ll never stop battling him.
Even if my body refuses to cooperate with my mind.
He returns a minute later, dropping a pair of plain cotton panties and my bra on the bench before whipping the dress up over my head, exposing my body to him again. I scowl. “I’m well able to dress myself.”
He smirks, grabbing the panties and dropping to his knees. “Lift,” he commands, tapping my foot.
I ignore him, keeping my feet firmly planted on the ground, and I can keep this up all day.
I gasp, stumbling back and gripping onto the side of the closet as his hot tongue swipes along my folds. “What the hell are you doing?” I pant, hating how needy I sound. It’s been weeks since I’ve known any action, and my body has grown accustomed to regular daily workouts.
I’ve missed sex with him.
Not that he’ll ever hear those words leave these lips.
I won’t give him any more opportunity to gloat.
