Page 10 of Craving Chaos

“At least you dressed appropriately this time.” My clipped words evidence my irritation.

Shae grins wickedly.

I’d question whether she could be a bit unhinged, but I don’t think it would matter. She’s like the overturned semitruck on the side of the highway that you can’t look away from.

“Boots are steel-toed. Want to test them?” she asks in a soft, sultry murmur, tapping the toe of one boot against my own leather work boots. No steel tips on mine, but Shae would have to gain another fifty pounds minimum before she had any hope of causing me harm.

She walks two fingers up my chest, hot-pink-tipped nails poking lightly at the fabric of my jacket. “You know my favorite thing in the whole wide world?” Her breathy voice is a tongue licking the length of my cock.

She’s toying with me. I know it, but I can’t walk away. “What’s that?”

“When men like you underestimate me.”

Lightning fast, her hand clamps around my balls. She’s expecting me to flinch and push her away. I don’t. I let her take me in her small fist and feel the stiffness she’s already inspired, then I crowd her by moving even closer.

“If that’s what you wanted, all you had to do was ask.” I ignore the pinch of pain. She’s not actually trying to hurt me. It could be a hell of a lot worse. This is about power. Respect. I have to hold my ground. Trying to outmaneuver her would give her a win the same as if I’d evaded to protect myself.

“If I wanted you, I’d already have you. This—" She gives me a slight squeeze. “Does nothing for me.”

I raise my hand ever so slowly to circle her neck, my thumb caressing the front of her throat where I can feel her pulse jump. I lean in, pulling her forward at the same time until my lips graze her ear. “Now look who’s making assumptions.” I pull back, drawing an impenetrable mask of indifference over my features. I give her a cold, hard stare before turning away.

She allows me to go. Amusement brightens her eyes, the only clue as to what she might be thinking. All that damn bravado makes me want to rattle her composure—make her drop her shields and reveal what’s underneath. That’s the last thing I should want where Shae Byrne is concerned.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” I loft dryly over my shoulder.

“I suppose you know how to work a forklift?” Her footsteps crunch on the gravel a few steps behind me.

“I suppose I do. Are you trying to tell me there’s something you can’t do?”

“Never tried, but there’s a first time for everything. Happy to give it a go.”

“Your guns, sweetheart. You fuck ’em up, you take the blame.”

“True, but it seems like a waste if I don’t give it a try. When else will I have the opportunity to play with such … impressive equipment?”

Jesus, does it ever end? Could she stop herself even if she wanted to? Doubtful.

I shake my head and unlock the door. “Those cousins of yours must really give you hell.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She shuts the door behind us with more force than necessary.

I level her with a glare. “Means you don’t have to put on a show all the time. You’re a badass, I get it.”

A minuscule twitch dances beneath her right eye, so small I would have missed it if I hadn’t been primed to analyze her reaction.

She recovers quickly, a Cheshire grin creeping across her face. “Maybe that’s just who I am.”

“Or maybe you’ve played the part so long, you don’t know the difference.”

She inches forward, the first glint of anger sharpening her features. “You’re awfully knowledgeable about me, considering you know nothing about me. Why is that? Maybe you’re projecting. Huh?” She pokes a finger into my chest. “How’s it feel to fill Daddy’s shoes? A touch of impostor syndrome setting in?”

She has my blood boiling in a handful of seconds. I unclench my fists and open my mouth to respond when reason slams into me. Arguing will get me nowhere. The best way to get under her skin is to rise above her ploys.

I clench my jaw shut and take a deep, cleansing breath before continuing. “Forklift’s this way.” I push past her, my shoulder bumping against hers.

Way to rise above, asshole.

A humorless laugh dances across the back of my neck as she follows me.

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