With a soft laugh, she grabs my face and forces me to look at her. “Do you really think I didn’t see it coming, Jag? Come on.”She rolls her eyes. “Seriously. I’m fine. Who I’m worried about, is you.”
Me? She’s worried about me? I’m stuck with the asshole, but Violet? Violet doesn’t have to put up with his bullshit. I still can’t believe he tried to ask if she fucked anything that walks until I stopped him. And then? The audacity to say she’s better off without her mother? How could he?—
“Jag?” she prods.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
She folds her arms.
“Iamfine,” I say, doubling down. And it’s true. On paper, I’m fine. The problem is, shit with my dad goes so much deeper than surface level, and every interaction makes me second-guess what’s up and what’s down. What’s right and what’s wrong. And what did I do? Instead of protecting Violet from his shit, I brought her along and fed her to the wolf. Another surge of guilt pulses through me. “I shouldn’t have lost my shit or invited you or subjected you?—”
“Hey.” The look she gives me reminds me of a strict school teacher. “You can’t rescind your invitation now. It’s just rude.”
As if she found a chink in my anger, my mouth lifts. I don’t know how she does it. How she can stomach being in a room with the sonofabitch, then come in here with me, determined to make me smile. The woman’s more perfect than she knows, even after everything she was subjected to tonight. “Vi, I’m so?—”
“If you apologize one more time, I’m not going to be fine. Do you hear me?”
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I grumble, “How can I fix this?”
“There’s nothing for you to fix.” She sighs. “Me, on the other hand.”
A low, humorless laugh rumbles through me. “Nothing for you to fix, either. I shouldn’t have lost control.”
“I’d hardly call you standing up to your father losing control.”
“Still feels like it," I mutter, replaying the last twenty minutes despite knowing it won’t do anything to calm me down. “Want the truth, Vi?” I take another deep breath. “I hate him for making me feel like I’m out of control anytime we’re in the same room.”
“Then take it back,” she whispers.
Take it back? Take what back? I drop my hand from my face and stare down at her. “What?”
“You said he makes you feel out of control,” she says. “So, take it back. Take control. If that’s what you need right now, take it from me.”
Her pretty red lips. The silky sheen clinging to her gold, wavy hair. The black dress showcasing her beauty. How can she look so put together while making me the priority after everything she’s been through tonight? It shouldn’t make sense, but for some reason, I can’t find it in me to be surprised. This is Violet Reeves. Her entire life is built upon reacting and pivoting and handling her shit in a way that’s impressive—and sexy—as fuck.
Grabbing her wrist, I bring her palm to my lips, kissing her. “You want me to boss you around?”
She tries hiding her smirk by nibbling the edge of her bottom lip, but it doesn’t do shit. Nope. The playful tilt of her pouty lips causes my blood to run south as I take her in. Violet Reeves. And she’s all mine. “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, I want you to boss me around.”
My cock pulses in my slacks. I kiss her fingers this time, then let go of her.
Okay, beautiful. You want to play? Let’s play.
“Distract me,” I order.
Those big doe eyes peer up at me, proving we’re on the same page, even if she’s hesitant to admit it out loud. Giving in, she palms me through my slacks. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Take me out.”
Holding my stare, she reaches for my slacks. The familiar zip of the metal teeth unzipping echoes throughout the otherwise silent bathroom. It mingles with her quiet breathing as anticipation grows around us. The warmth from her palm brands itself against my dick as she grabs me through my boxers, massaging me over the thin material. My balls clench at the contact, and I breathe in through my nostrils, determined to keep my willpower in check no matter how easy it would be to pick her up and fuck her shamelessly. But that would ruin the game, wouldn’t it?
“Take me out,” I repeat.
She swallows, her gaze never leaving mine, and pulls out my cock from my gray boxers. Beads of precum already cling to the head. Call me a bastard, but I’ve been craving her since the moment I saw her in her dress. So perfect. With a hot as hell innocence, she runs her thumb along the crest, gathering the lubricant and driving me insane.
“On your knees,” I order.
She drops in an instant.
