You know how to beg, though, that voice in her head whispered.
She glanced up sharply from filling the box, all of their exchanges from the last week filling the silence that hung between them. He was still watching her and the muted fire in his gaze made her instantly aware of the fact that she was on her knees in front of him, clad only in her sleep shorts and a threadbare shirt with no bra.
Jay swung to her feet so quickly that she got a bit of a head rush. “If this is about what I said earlier, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have overreac—”
His hands shot out to grab her, spanning beneath her ribs. Her voice faded into a croak. She wanted to back away, but there was nowhere to back to, so she put her hands on his chest, flat. To push him away, or so she told herself, though once she touched him, neither of them moved.
“You know why I’m here.” He breathed in once, deeply. The look on his face shifted from anger to something she was far more familiar with, that made her fingers bite into the fabric until she could feel the minute shift of his pectoral muscles. “Let’s not play games for fucking once.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You are.” His voice was quiet, vicious. “You’ve been crying.”
She did push at him then, and he gripped her tighter.
“I came here because you called me. Because I care about you.”
The floor jerked beneath her feet. “Nick, I—”
“I really don’t want to hear your excuses, Justine.”
The cold authority in his voice, and the way he lingered overher full name, did strange things to her body.Why is he calling me that?
She swayed slightly when he removed her hands from his chest and brought them to her sides. His grip was loose, but Jay was pretty sure he wouldn’t let her get away if she tried to run. Just to be certain, she gave an experimental wriggle and his fingers tightened, accompanied by a forbidding hum in the back of his throat that caused her pulse to spike.
Still holding onto her wrists, he gave her a nudge backwards. “Sit down.”
She backed obediently as he herded her to the tiny loveseat that sat catty corner to her favorite blue chair. Then he pushed down on her shoulders with the same practiced shove that he used on her in bed. Her legs buckled as if primed, and she collapsed on the faded cushions. The sound that left her was a little too harsh, and it made him look at her again, slow and speculative.
Jay hunched her shoulders, trying to hide how hard her nipples had gotten.
“I just got out of that fucking airport and you—” He paused, and she folded her arms. “I need to decide what to do with you.”
“What?” she scoffed. “Are you going to punish me?”
“Yes.”
Yes?He shrugged off his blazer and tossed it onto her chair. Their eyes met. Her fingers dug into her own flesh as she tried to control her breathing. He didn’t approach, though. Instead, he went to her kitchen nook and began rooting through her cupboards. The old T-shirt clung to his body with each twisting movement, highlighting the flex of heavy muscle beneath.
She stared at his arms. “What do you mean,yes?”
“I’m going to punish you.”
Jay willed herself to be angry. Shewantedto be angry. Howdarehe come bursting into her kitchen with all his talk aboutpunishments?
Pain flared on her forearms; she’d gouged herself with her own nails. Jay grabbed a couch cushion, hugging that to her chest instead. Sweat was making her top stick to her arms and back.
“What are you going to do?”
He didn’t respond.
“What are you looking for in there?” she continued, settling on a hostile tone that she hoped hid how thoroughly unsettled she was. “Maybe I can help you find it.”
He glanced over his shoulder briefly before ripping open a teabag. That look made her throat tighten until it felt like she was breathing in through a straw.
“It’s my apartment,” she went on recklessly. It was as if she were unable to stop, even though she was knew she was making things worse. “I know where everything is. You could ask me instead of bulldozing around my kitchen.”
With more emphasis than necessary, Nicholas dropped the teabag into one of her mugs, which he filled with cold water and then put it into a microwave. Watching his hands on her things, imagining them on her body, was making her antsy. God, why wouldn’t he say anything?
