Page 10 of Off-Limits Bad Boy

“You’re disgusting,” she says, though the heat behind her words loses all power as I see the hungry look in her eyes. And for the first time, my heart sinks. Oh, no. She’s not feeling it, this spark between us, is she?

I don’t know how to fix that. “I’m adorable,” I say, taking a deliberate step closer to her. Her brows tighten and I know I’m putting myself in danger - but it’s fun. The threat is thrilling.

“Stop it, Kade,” she says, her voice a warning ringing out between us. But I hear something else, too. A slight tremble in her voice that betrays her stern tone. And her eyes... they’re like liquid pools of super-heated steel.

“Make me.” I dare her as I lean in close until our breaths mingle, until I can see the way her pupils dilate just so. The hollow at the base of her throat deepens, and she inhales a deep breath as if trying to ground herself.

“You’re a dick,” she mutters, looking away from me.

“Why are you thinking about my dick?” I whisper.

Her eyes widen, then anger floods back in. “And you're arrogant. And disgusting.”

“You said that already. Maybe you need to widen your vocabulary?” I’m so close I could move a few inches and press my lips to hers. I want to kiss her so damn bad, but if I did that, there’d be no coming back.

“Shut up, Kade,” she says, then lets out an annoyed grunt before spinning away from me. But this time, there’s less anger in her movements and more confusion, as if she was feeling the urge to kiss just like I was.

And I take the opportunity to keep admiring the view. She looks even more incredible when she’s angry, damn.

“Where do you think you're going?” I say loudly enough for her to hear me across the distance she’s putting between us. She stops, her shoulders squaring up as if she’s mentally preparing for a fight. This ought to be interesting.

I carefully keep my distance to give her the illusion of control as she turns slowly around, her expression betraying that she has no will or energy to deal with my bs anymore. Good. That’s a win for both of us.

“Anywhere but here.” We stare one another down, the tension between us growing. I watch her ribs inflate and deflate as she takes deep breaths, her gaze daring me to make one more challenging, rude comment.

“Well, in that case, off you go,” I say, lifting my index finger and rotating it in a gesture for her to turn around. Rage fills her expression, but she turns and leaves without another word.

I think that went well.

Chapter Five

Emma

No matter how hard I try, I can't get the thought of the intensity in Kade’s eyes as he glanced up from my backside to meet my gaze.

Heat creeps into my face, and I try to ignore the tingling warmth spreading through my whole body as the memory surges again like rolling waves on a beach.

My confusion tangles with something else, a flicker of unwanted pleasure. I shouldn’t want him looking, I shouldn't feel this way because he was. No, I should be absolutely furious. He knew how to get us out of the walk-in, but he let me believe we were really stuck. And all for what? Because I didn't specifically ask him to get us out of there?

I turn around again, ready to give him a piece of my mind.

And once again, I catch him looking at my backside. “Really?” My voice comes out sharper than intended, but I don’t feel bad.

And apparently, neither does he, because he doesn't apologize. He doesn't even flinch. Instead, his lips curve into that familiar smirk, the kind that says he knows exactly what effect he has on me.

And damn him, he does.

I storm off, my fists clenched. But no, I had something to say, that’s why I stopped in the first place. But as I turn, I catch him dragging his gaze up from where he was very clearly admiring my backside again. My anger fizzles out like a sparkler in the rain. What the heck? This man has no shame. Heat floods my cheeks, an infuriating mix of embarrassment and something dangerously close to desire.

“Like what you see?” I ask in a sharp tone, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel.

He nods enthusiastically and I want to throw something at him. “I can't help it,” he says, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “You really grew into yourself, Emma Riley.”

I’m not going to stand around and let him act this way. No way.

I stomp away, the click of my heels sounding like gunshots in the quiet space. Usually, the music drowns out all else, but I prefer the club like this, quiet, empty, safe. Well, kind of safe, anyway.

Reaching the safety of the bar, I peel off the leather jacket that smells like him—cedar and trouble—and whip it across the room. It sails through the air, a dark blur until he catches it with one hand, effortless, infuriatingly graceful.

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