Page 6 of All That Glitters

Her chin juts out, lip lowering as though to release the floodgates of another tirade.

“Don’t think I won’t,” I finish.

For a moment, tense silence reigns. She meets my eyes, her head tilted to the side before she growls at me. “Fine! You want me to shower so badly? Fine.” Red cheeked and dark eyed, she starts ripping her clothes off while I turn on the water.

Shit. She’s pissed at me, but with her, it’s all about the game. I have to get creative to get her to do what she needs to.

She shucks off her tank top and bra, tossing both of them at my back. I hold a hand under the pounding spray, ignoring her muttered curses meant to make her feel better.

“Are you happy now? I’m naked. You’re not even looking at me.”

Fuck no, I’m not. It’s damn near impossible not to turn around and see all that smooth, naked flesh. The thought alone has my cock hardening. The gray sweatpants won’t hide anything for long. If I don’t get out of here, my control will snap. I’ll fuck her under the spray, and I’ll hate myself for every thrust into her moist heat. Maybe not in the moment—in the moment, I’ll be in heaven, unleashing all my pent-up aggression and desire for her, but after… after, I’ll regret it.

“If you keep pushing me, I’ll throw your ass outside like this so the rest of the world can deal with you.”

This is one standoff I’m determined to win. But fuck me. Don’t look at her.

My cock jerks and thickens regardless. She moves closer just as I turn for the door, and I catch a single glance of supple thighs right before the V of her pussy.

Shit. That was a mistake.

“You have a half hour to get ready, and then we have an appointment,” I say as I walk out. “If you make me late, you will regret it.”

THREE

Marcus has the singular ability to insult, degrade, and generally piss off everyone he speaks to, including me. Especially me. I like to think it’s a game we play, where we agree to swipe at each other to see who will win.

It’s never me.

I hold my own on occasion, but he’s much older, and he’s had more practice, the grumpy asshole.

I tip my head up to meet the cascade of hot water, running hands through my hair to wet every stand. It feels way too damn good to actually shower. When was the last time—never mind, too long. I’ve been getting by with dry shampoo and shame, and the combination isn’t exactly a winning one.

Not to mention, I’ve got a busy day today.

For the life of me, I have no idea about the appointment Marcus made. He’s told me before, but the information slipped right through the cracks in my head. Something important, though, if he’s willing to play the barbarian and sling me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The view south, however, had been interesting, watching his ass jiggle with each angry step toward my suite.

I want to be angry with him. I grab the soap and lather beneath my arms, along the lines of my torso.

He pushes me beyond my limits of control. There are some days I’m only a second away from slapping him and demanding he say something that won’t be an insult to my personality…

Except he’s right—about the shower, not about anything else. The water does help. As much as I hate to admit it, I do feel better.

I take care to lather my hair with the rose and lavender shampoo bar, working it into suds and running the soap along my thick length of hair.

He said we had an appointment, not me. The two of us. Maybe he’s finally caved, and he’s going to walk me through the details of Mom and Dad’s estate with their accountant. No, I correct, rinsing out my hair. He’s too much of a control freak to let me in on the finances.

Maybe we’re taking a trip to the spa! I groan out loud at the thought of a hot rock massage, something to alleviate the tension. May those glorious rocks take away every bit of nightmarish sleep over the last few days. Weeks. Months.

I stay in the shower longer than necessary, partly to see what Marcus is going to do, partly to let the spray beat every negative thought out of my brain to make room for something good. Anything good.

I’d decided, once the sun rose, to start getting back to making social media posts. Nothing will be enough to combat the shit spread by the press, but I should be trying, at least, getting back out there, even when it feels like pushing against a brick wall.

Cutting off the water, I hold my breath, listening for Marcius to tell me right off the bat to get my ass moving, as he likes to do. The man might be a pain in my ass, but he’s all I’ve got.

The thought has me pursing my lips and gnawing the inside of my cheek.

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