Page 48 of Resist

And I hate myself for it almost as much as I enjoy playing the game.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Vaughn

I glance down at my text and grit my teeth.

Your forty-eight hours are almost up. I’ll give you till midnight and then I’m calling Lola. It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.

If I thought he’d fueled my temper earlier today, I was wrong.

Dead wrong.

Because seeing his ultimatum written down, seeing the threat clear as day, seems to make it more real somehow.

Seems to make it so I can’t pretend they’re empty words.

I read the text again and hate how talking to him earlier made me feel. How I stupidly let my guard down when I have to act like a professional regardless of how he makes me feel.

And how the asshole is continually trying to gain the upper hand.

Damn it.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ryker

11:58 p.m.

I watch the clock.

It moves at a fucking snail’s pace, and for once I’m okay with it. It needs to slow down. I need to buy time.

I mull over the conference call from earlier tonight and the notes I took on it that are sitting on the coffee table in front of me. Another woman out to screw her husband. Another relationship biting the dust because of lies and betrayal.

11:59 p.m.

My cell rings, and I can’t help but laugh. I should’ve figured she was going to play this game in return.

“Can’t stay away from me, huh?” I answer.

“Let’s get one thing straight here.”

“Giving demands, are we?” I ask, amusement in my voice and my dick getting hard at the defiance in hers.

“I’m a woman of my word. I made an agreement with you, and I’ll keep it.” I love how she turns this into an assertion of her will versus a concession to my threat. “But I meant what I said. I will not have sex with you.”

My laugh is quick and disbelieving. “Yes, you will.” Pure male ego has the words falling from my mouth, but her absolute silence has me second-guessing it a minute after the truth is out.

But she just said yes. Halle-fucking-lujah.

“No—” She sighs when the word escapes and corrects herself. “That’s off the table.”

“What happened the other night, then? In the hotel room? Don’t I at least get an explanation?”

“The other night has to do with fulfilling the terms of our contract going forward. You don’t get to make it about my personal life.”

My chuckle fills the line—part amusement, part you’re out of your mind. “You already made it personal the minute I slipped my fingers between your thighs and felt how wet I made you. The minute you pushed me away and lied about how lacking I was in skill. Your insults—”