Page 41 of Resist

“Maybe I should remind you why it’s not.”

His lips slant over mine. They coax and tempt and taunt and take in a way that makes me want to resist out of pure principle, but holy hell . . . my lips react without my brain consenting. My body burns bright with a heat I don’t want to feel. It’s his stubble scraping against my chin. It’s his lips controlling my heightened sensations. It’s him . . .

“No.” I shove against him, duck under his arms framing me on either side, and stride across the small area. My breath is ragged, and every part of me wants to walk back over to him and finish what he just started when I know I can’t. When I know that something must be wrong with me to want this, to want him . . .

His chuckle reverberates around the small space, and when I turn back around to look at him, his hands are in his pockets and his back is leaning against the door behind him. “You’re incredible.”

“No! You don’t get to do that!” I shout in response to his stupid compliment.

“I don’t?”

“No.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s my body, it’s my say, and I say no.”

“It was pretty clear your body was saying yes.”

“This is not going to happen, Ryker. I am not going to be your plaything to fulfill your needs when you see fit. That’s not who I am. I have more dignity than—”

“But it’s okay for you to make money from others who do it?”

“Business is business,” I assert, cautious and curious why he’s standing there looking like he’s won this debate that he clearly hasn’t.

“If business is business, then I’m sure your girls wouldn’t be too thrilled if they knew not only was their boss taking her cut, but she was also taking on clients herself. Stealing clients from them.” The muscle in his jaw tics as his eyes challenge me just as fiercely as his words do. “It would be a shame if they found out.”

Because he’s right. I’d have a mutiny on my hands if anyone found out—Lola especially.

“Are you threatening me?” My voice has turned cold where my body still runs hot. Anger, it seems, is something I feel on the ready when he’s near.

His simple shrug tells me he is. “It’s not a threat when it’s the truth.”

“There are a lot of truths out there, Ryker,” I say, finding my footing underneath me, pissed as hell that he thinks he can threaten me. “You might want to be careful with what you threaten when your truths aren’t always the most flattering.”

His eyebrows lift, and a ghost of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “You were saying?”

“Roxanne?”

His face shows a flicker of emotion—surprise mixed with annoyance that I know his secrets—before he reins it in, jaw clenched, body tense. “Go right ahead. My dirt would hurt me a helluva lot less than yours would hurt you.” He steps away from the wall and moves toward me. “Most people in this city know what a bastard I am. Scruples are something I don’t claim to have. Most of them think worse of me than the truth, so spill my secrets, Vaughn. I promise you it wouldn’t put a dent in the long list of bullshit I’ve been accused of.”

His eyes glint with a darkness that is frightening and thrilling and begs to be tested. Is he serious? Is he that fearless of the repercussions?

“You’re bluffing.” He wouldn’t tell Lola I took her place, would he? He wouldn’t blackmail me with the threat of ruining my business just because I won’t?

His smile is anything but warm.

When he steps closer, this time I steel myself for his touch. For the fingers that tuck my hair behind my ear, and for the look in his eyes as he angles his head to the side and stares at me.

“Ten thousand a night, then.”

“You’re insane.”

“Do we have a deal, Vaughn?” he asks, saying my name like a man savoring an expensive scotch on his tongue.

“No.” A lift of my chin. A squaring of my shoulders.

“I wasn’t asking for permission. I was telling you.”