Page 95 of Failure to Match

“Nothing. I’m not going to marry you.”

I was panting. He was panting. There was no breathable air left in the whole house.

He licked his lips, cheeks reddening with… either lust or rage. I couldn’t be sure. “Then say the word.”

“No.” The rebellious little quip slipped out of me before I could stop it. There was something so unbelievably thrillingabout not giving Jackson exactly what he wanted.

It was like standing at the very edge of a cliff with no harness on. Or toying with fire.

His gaze was borderline feral. Still, he couldn’t fully hold back his smile, no matter how hard he kept trying. “You like being a little tease, Jamie?”

Without waiting for an answer, his hand slipped a little too high up my skirt, edging up the fabric.

Whoa, okay.

Now would have been the seventh most perfect time to put a stop to the destructive path we’d set ourselves on.

“I asked you a question.” His fingers inched up and up, ruining me with gentle caresses. “Do you enjoy teasing me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm.” I shook my head innocently, desperately clinging on to his shirt. My nails were going to leave permanent bites in the crisp fabric.

“Telling me I have the personality of a hardboiled egg… calling mepredictable… refusing to obey the simplest commands…”

“You’re a dom, I get it,” I panted. His fingers were dangerously close to discovering just how much I didn’t hate this.

“Am I?”

“Typical, seeing as how you’re such a control freak.”

He chuckled darkly. “You’re so fucking mean.”

I’d have laughed too if he hadn’t chosen that exact moment to brush the edge of my soaked panties with his finger. I swallowed back the moan that tore through my chest, stopping it just in time.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me, Jamie. I’d like to tease you properly.” His fingers kept brushing the seam of my underwear, dousing me in dark lust and liquid fire.

This was it. If I listened to him, it would be a clear indication that I wanted it. I’d be saying it without actually saying it.

“Come on. Show me what a good girl you can be.”

Fuck me.

Who the hell would have guessed that Jackson Sinclair, of all people, was into dirty talk? And teasing?

My thighs inched open for him, my last bit of rationality melting into need.

“That’s it,” he purred approvingly. “It’s going to feel so good when I finally touch you properly, isn’t it?”

I whimpered when he drew a knuckle up my seam and mercilessly pressed it into my clit. Even through the cotton fabric, the shock of pleasure hit hard enough to make me shudder.

Jacksontsked. “Needy little thing. You’d need to be fucked regularly if we got married, wouldn’t you?”

I wanted to point out that he’d very specifically told me that he wasn’t going to have a sexual relationship with his wife, but the words withered into a desperate whimper when he pinched my clit over my panties.

Then he did it again—harder this time.

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