“That’s funny, but I have a cab waiting.”
“Youhada cab waiting.”
“That’s bullshit!” I announce, channeling my teenage self. I try to tug my arm from him.No bueno.My blood heats instantly, my temper with it, even if this, or something like this, was my aim. “Fine. I’ll get an Uber,” I say, twisting away. He lets me go, and my heart bangs like a steel drum as, my back to him, I pull out my phone. “Hey!” I complain as he whips it from my grip, tossing it onto the bed.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m not your prisoner,” I retort. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I can.” I back up two shuffling steps as he crowds me. “Under this roof, my word is law.”
I burst out laughing. “Okay, Dad.”
“You want to play that game, princess? Fine, I’ll put you over my fucking knee.”
Conflicted. So conflicted. The images that flash through my head? Ten out of ten. My body draped over his. His hand sliding. A reprimanding sharp sting. Only… I once overheard Whit and Mimi playing this game. And that’s a lady boner killer right there.
“Not tonight, thanks,” I answer belatedly, flouncing past him. “It’s not like this is a real marriage,” I toss over my shoulder as I reach for the door handle. “And even if it was—”
His palm slams the door shut.
“This marriage is very real,” he grinds out, hauling his arm around my waist. His front pressed to my back feels hot, hard, and way overdue.
He whips my clutch from my hand. From the sound, it lands on the velvet bench. “Today is not a good day to test your luck.”
“My luck? My luck ran out the day I met you.”
It’s his turn to laugh now.Such a bitter, unhappy sound.
Effortlessly, he lifts me from my feet. Half a dozen long steps, and he deposits me on the bed, face down. “Isn’t that the truth?” His answer is a harsh whisper in my ear, and I gasp at the dragof his teeth, everything inside me pulling inward like a vacuum. But then my body cools as his begins to retract.
“We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
Cool body, hot head.
“Get fucked,” I announce, rolling to my back. My legs lie over the side, my torso raised as I rest on my forearms. “I’m going, and there isn’t a thing you can do to stop me. Unless…” My gaze drinks him in. Black pants and shirt. Clothing, hair, eyes, and mood all from the same color palette. “Do you have a better offer to make me?”
“So this is what it’s all about?”
“I don’t want the carrot anymore.” I drop my gaze deliberately. “I want the stick.”
“You’re so transparent.”
Despite this being my plan, discomfort pricks at me. “Yeah? Well, you’re boring.”
His head twitches back—just a little, but I see it.
“Boring!” I say again, louder now.
The mattress bounces as his big hands land next to my head. Not one part of his body touches mine, though his lips are just an inch away.
“You might look like a dream, princess, but you are a nightmare. Hell in a black dress and fuck-me heels.”
“I’ll keep them on if you want.”
“What the fuck am I doing?” He jerks away, then he’s on his feet. Moving away, moving back. Raking a hand through his hair.
“Give in,” I demand, lifting my chin. “Please,” I add, my tone softer as I slide my hand down my body. It takes every ounce of courage I possess to let my legs fall open. To curl my fingers under the hem of my dress. “I know you want me.” My body thrums with a heady mix of anticipation, angst, and want, as I drag the hem higher.
