Page 172 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

“So you’re not hungry?”

Spinning around to face me, she laughs. “I don’t believe for a second you have a chef here to cook for us. I looked around that kitchen, Jaxon. Gorgeous, to say the least, with all the stainless steel appliances and that gas range that’s definitely chef level, but there’s no food in the damn refrigerator. Why do you feel you have to lie to me? Is it to make me think you’re a nice guy? Because that ship sailed the moment you took me from my apartment and kidnapped me!”

So much for getting past the anger.

“She’s at the store. You’ll see when she gets back.”

“Then why did you say she could whip up something for me if she’s not here? You must think I’m a total idiot. I bet this kind of thing works with people who don’t pay much attention to what’s said around them. I’m not one of those people, you know.”

I take a step toward her and stop when she throws me the nastiest look I’ve ever seen. “I know you’re not. I promise I’m not lying. You’ll see. And for what it’s worth, I love that you’re smart. I just think you could believe in me a little more. We were together for a long time.”

Of course, she doesn’t miss a beat before saying, “Until you broke up with me.”

Jesus, I can’t deal with this for the next month.

“Fine. I broke up with you. Yes, I did that. I told you why, and whether you believe me or not, that’s the truth. I’m not going to keep trying to make you understand. It happened and that’s it.”

As I talk, her expression gets angrier and angrier until I’m pretty sure she wants to hit me. Marching over to where I stand, she pokes her finger into my chest as she shakes her head.

“Nope. You don’t get to be like that, Jaxon. You were the jackass who left me, not the other way around. I’m not okay with the it happened bullshit. Own your behavior. If you’re going to be a bad man, then be a bad fucking man, but don’t expect me or anyone else to be okay with it.”

I truly love this woman, but at this moment, all I can think of doing is stopping her from talking so at least she might be able to remember how much she loved me before we broke up. It’s never going to happen if all we do is argue, so it’s time for more drastic measures.

We stare into one another’s eyes for a long moment before I lift her up and throw her over my shoulder. She wants me to be a bad man? Okay. It’s my nature, so I’m all in on that.

She complains the entire way back to the bedroom, but I’m not listening anymore. It’s time for me to remind her of one of the things that made us so great together.

Seven

TIA

No matter how much I kick and protest, he refuses to put me down, and then he dumps me onto the bed like a load of clean laundry. He’s out of his mind if he thinks this is a good seduction technique.

Jaxon smiles down at me as I scramble to get back on my feet. “Enough fighting. I’m tired of it.”

The look in his eyes tells me he thinks we’re going to sleep together in a few minutes. Terrific. He’s officially lost his mind. That I know for sure now.

I’m being held hostage by an insane madman.

As he gently eases me back onto the bed, I say, “If you think for a second I’m going to sleep with you after you kidnapped me, you’re crazy. Let me up so I can leave this place.”

He ignores me and starts unbuttoning his white dress shirt. “Why do you insist on fighting this? You love me. I love you. Why can’t you enjoy this time together without any distractions?”

My mouth drops open as shock at the way he looks at this situation fills me. “Do you hear yourself when you say things like that?”

My question goes unanswered as he tosses his shirt onto a chair in the corner of the room. God, he looks even better than I remembered. No! I can’t let myself get sidetracked by his tattoos, muscular chest and arms, and washboard abs.

Closing my eyes, I try to stay strong, but this man has always had an effect on me. I need to think of something completely unsexual. That pimento loaf my mother loves. That show on Discovery with the doctor who always seems to be popping people’s zits. Elon Musk. Guys who comb their hair over to hide their balding heads.

“I like that you’re not fighting this anymore. We’re making progress,” he says in a low voice I know all too well.

That’s how he sounds when he’s hard as a rock and ready. God, now all I can think of is how good it feels when he makes love to me.

Zits. Musk. Comb overs. Pimento loaf.

Damnit, it’s not working. Even thinking about those gross things isn’t turning me off.

The first touch of his hands on my leg to slip off my yoga pants makes my body come alive. I must be insane. That’s the problem. He’s not the crazy one. It’s me. It must be because only someone who’s out of their mind would be aroused right now.

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