Treachery

Refusing to back down, I march away, brushing past Ta

By the time I reach the foyer, I hear footsteps coming up behind me. It’s a heavy pounding of a powerful stride, my heart leaping into my throat as my hand lands on the knob, a shriek tearing from my lungs when I’m grabbed from behind, spun around and lifted up to be tossed over a shoulder.

“Stop it with your caveman shit,” I complain as he takes the stairs two at time before walking me down one hallway and then another to what I assume is the guestroom prison he’s assigned me.

It’s not like I can see where we’re going, not with his ass in my face. When he finally takes me where he wants to go, slams the door behind us and drops me in a chair, I blink my eyes open and brush my hair aside to see he’s brought me to a much larger bedroom than the tiny prison he’d trapped me in before.

I realize it’s the master. His room. A king-sized bed and dark, masculine decor the first clue that this is his i

Only, I’m too mad to take a good look around, my face tilting up to his, our eyes locking with a clash of steel that is so fucking typical of when we’re together.

“Nope,” I say simply, not about to make the same mistake as Yale.

It doesn’t matter that my body is trembling both in anger and want. It can’t matter that I feel breathless to be alone with him.

Those are feelings only stupid women have. And they never lead to anything productive.

Pushing to my feet, I storm past him en route to the door, only to be stopped when his strong hand locks over the back of my neck, my body spi

Ta

It only excites him more, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip before his mouth curls against mine in an arrogant grin.

“You taste good when you’re angry,” he whispers against my lips, his dark green eyes pi

His dangerous stare drops to my mouth. “At least that part of you does. I wonder what the rest of your body tastes like when you’re like this.”

My eyes close, and a tremor runs through me. I can’t catch my breath. My brain warring with my body as my thighs slam together.

“We’re not good for each other.”

“I know,” he answers, his mouth ru

“We hate each other.”

“So what?” His teeth nip my ear.

I shiver as my lips part on the need to breathe deeper. “You make my life a living hell.”

The tip of his tongue slides out to lick at my pulse point, his lips hot against my neck.

“You should stop talking and take off your clothes.”

This is dumb.

Fucking stupid.

We shouldn’t do this.

“Are we calling a truce again?”

He shakes his head, his hands clamping down on my hips as his fingers squeeze tight, fingertips dragging over my skin as his palms slide up my shirt.

“Not this time. It’s more fun when we fight.”

Son of a bitch...

What the hell am I doing?

My hands fist his shirt, tug up, and I pull it from his arms as he lifts them for me, his bare chest exposed to my view as I drop the shirt, and his mouth traps mine again.

Ta

I’m not thinking anymore, just acting on instinct, every inch of my body sensitive to his touch, my heart a drum beating way too hard.

His hands move to my ass to lift me up, my legs going around his waist as he drops his head to bite the tip of my breast from over my shirt.

“I should tell you to stop, that this a bad idea,” I pant, my palms sliding up his chest and over his shoulders as his teeth softly nip up the side of my neck.

“I won’t believe you.”

I grin, and he pulls me from the wall to carry me to his bed, my body dropping down on the mattress.

Staring up at him, I lose my mind to see he’s only improved since Yale, the bulge of his biceps harder, the definition of his chest and shoulders a picture of perfection.

My gaze drops lower, and I bite my lip to follow the line of his oblique muscles down to his pants.

“Take them off.”

“Happy to,” he breathes out, his jeans sliding off his hips before he kicks them off his ankles, his cock a thick, rigid line beneath his black boxer briefs.

This isn’t a slow thoughtful moment. Isn’t a sweet coupling with two shy people who are hoping to take their time with each other’s bodies.

No. This is a rush to the prize. A race filled with desperation. An eventuality that has been building since the moment he cornered me in the ladies’ bathroom at the courthouse.

I knew it would end here.

He knew it, too.

But the thing with anger is that it’s hard to look past the haze of red rage to see the truth of how badly you want someone.

Even if that person is the worst thing for you.

Ta

I’m unbuttoning my jeans as his mouth sucks on the tip of my breast, our moves working together with such smooth coordination that there’s no pauses or fumbling moments for us to reconsider what we’re doing.

Not that it would stop us.

Not now.

Not when we’d both walk out of this room in pain if we didn’t find an outlet to ease the anger and tension between us.

We’re two opposing forces, yet constantly being shoved together. And every time it happens, it explodes into this moment.

Ta

His palm locks over the bottom of my right foot, pushing my leg up and open, his hot mouth ru

I squirm, and he grips my hips to hold me in place, intentionally slowing this down so that he can toy with me. Tugging my panties aside with his teeth, he licks a slow line up my slit, my fingers curling tighter into his hair as my body trembles.

The pulse of his breath beats between my legs when he speaks. “Fuck, you taste better down here.”

And then his mouth closes over my pussy as my head rolls back, my legs clamping closed only for him to drag his hands down from my hips to shove them wide open.

Ta

Another flick of his tongue before his fingers grip down on my thighs, his face dipping down so that his tongue drives inside me, back and forth, with the tease of what something harder and longer would feel like as it tears me apart.