Page 124 of Unexpected Hero

Instead, I jab my index finger into his chest and hold his stare. “Stop telling me what to do. You ain’t my daddy. I don’t have one of those anymore.”

He lowers his forehead, the intensity in his eyes reaching molten levels. “Last chance. Go to your room, Violet.”

Fire ignites in my veins as my need for independence courses through me. “Is that your Dom voice? Are you tryin’ to make me obey you? ‘Cause I’m not feeling very obedient right now. You’re not my Dom, remember? And this ain’t the club.”

He mashes his teeth together, his jaw clicking under the strain. Against my will, my body reacts. My core clenches, and my pulse thumps wildly in my neck.

James is cute when he’s a little dorky. He’s adorable when he’s flustered and doesn’t know what to say. He’s attractive when he’s caring for me or giving me glimpses of his intelligence.

But an angry James is a scorching inferno of sex appeal. His eyes could melt the sun. The flare and constriction of his nostrils from his angry breaths might make me detonate.

So this is why Freya loves being a brat.

When he doesn’t react to my outburst, I roll my eyes and tear off toward my room in a dramatic show. My little piggies hurt with each clomp of my foot, but I’m too angry to be bothered.

Angry or sexually frustrated?

Probably both.

Yep, it’s both.

James doesn’t speak, but I hear and feel him trailing behind me. Of course he is. Because why would he take a hint? He probably doesn’t even realize I’m upset. Just a normal night for Captain Clueless of the USS Baffling.

And I’m not even going to mentally salute myself for that one.

Several feet before arriving at my door, I freeze, my posture going rigid. On my left is an outdoor hallway leading to the laundry room and a pop machine. On the right is a pathway to the pool. A flickering light inside the pool gives off a blue-green glow that flashes dark every few seconds. The color is hauntingly similar to James’s eyes.

It’s calling to me, tempting me to dive in, clothes and all. For the simple purpose of disobeying him and pushing his damn buttons.

The nerve of him. Go to my room? What am I? A child?

Fuck that.

Without thinking it through, I abruptly launch myself down the path leading to the pool. When I get to the gate, I propel it open with far too much force, and it slams behind me, causing an awful racket.

“Where are you going?” he calls out.

I flip him off over my shoulder.

Mature and classy. Always a lady. That’s me. Mama would be so proud. I’ve become the trash she always thought I was.

Fuck her. And fuck him.

At the closest patio table, I throw down my purse and reach down to remove my sandals, hopping slightly on one foot.

Not sure why I’m about to jump in the pool. Lord knows when it was last cleaned. Knowing me, I’ll end up with dysentery or cholera. At a minimum, gonorrhea.

Knowing James, he won’t let me get in. And a growing part of me wants to see how far I can push him. I’m embracing my wild side and testing out this whole bratty thing.

Is it immature? Probably.

But it’s not exactly mature to lie to someone like he did, now is it? And then to refuse to explain when confronted? Childish as fuck.

Mama always said to treat others the way you wish to be treated. So I’m teaching him that lesson.

Rationalization level: Expert.

I hear the pool gate slam behind me as I pull my blouse over my head, leaving me topless except for my bra. When I reach around my back to unzip my skirt, a warm, firm hand grips my wrist, stopping me.

---