“What can I use against him? To hurt him. Talk now, or I’ll call Snow.”
He chuckles. “How can you not see what his weakness is?”
“What do you mean?”
He gets up from the desk, pushes his chair in, and stuffs our wrappers into the food bag. “Go look in the mirror. You’ll see his weakness, beauty.” He leans down, removing a hair from my face. “You didn’t have to so-called blackmail me. I would have given you the information anyway.” His voice tickles my ear, and my cheeks warm. “FYI, you’re right—we wouldn’t work in a relationship because if you were mine, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight. You’d be locked up in my mansion, serving me as my whore. I have more respect for you than to make you a sex doll.” He winks and heads toward the double doors.
My chest flutters. I exhale. That was… intense.
I shake my head, gather my belongings, and head home.
Once inside, I set my book bag on the floor, exhaling as I walk into the kitchen where the chef is cooking. I open the fridge, grab a grapefruit-flavored drink, and down it straight from the carton. The chef frowns at me and then turns back to the stove.
Irvin walks into the kitchen with blood on his hands.
“Where are you coming from?” I ask.
“A fight broke out at Keanu’s place,” he answers.
I follow him to the bedroom—bad idea. I should stay away from him, but after what Jameson said, I’m going to use the power I have over Irvin against him. Maybe he’s right—maybe I am his weakness. But how would I do that? My attempt at manipulation isn’t clearly working on Irvin. He knows my moves and outmaneuvers me.
I should have gotten more information out of Jameson.
Irvin removes his bloody clothes, then goes into the bathroom, and I hear the shower running. Thirty minutes later, he comes back in a pair of boxers and stares at me like I’m his prey, ready to devour me. He pours himself a glass of bourbon from the minibar he installed not too long ago, drinks slowly, then sets it down on the table. I try not to let his gaze affect me.
He corners me on the bed, stroking my cheeks. I smell the sweet, burning liquor on his breath. He lifts my shirt, removes my silk bra, and stares at my breasts, his breath hitching.
My cheeks flush. Why don’t I stop him?
The bastard grins, kisses my temple, then my forehead. “Now that you found out you’re my weakness, what do you plan on doing with the information, my princess?”
I step back, knitting my eyebrows together. “That loudmouth told you I saw him.”
He shrugs. “Of course he told me.”
He rests both hands on the wall above my head, caging me in. Heat blooms beneath my skin, tingling with awareness. It would be so much better if I hadn’t already fucked him. I straighten my spine.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want you?”
He places his hands on my breasts. “You know you want my dick inside you, stretching you.”
My core tingles, and my nipples harden. But I shake my head.
I should feel disgusted by him, yet I’m not. Instead, I lean into his touch. He picks me up, lays me on the bed, removes my panties, and slides his fingers inside me.
I feel my core squeeze around his digits and suck in a breath.
He places a finger on my clit. My breath hitches. “The way your body responds to me—you love it. Your body is begging to be worshipped by me.”
I try to push back with my elbow, but he wraps his free arm around my waist, securing me in place.
“It’s normal to react to pleasure. No big deal. Even victims respond to the pleasure of their rapist,” I snap.
“So I’m your rapist now?”
No. I want you touching me all the time. More than you know. I crave you even when I hate you.
“Move, Irvin. I need to study for my neuropsychology class.”
