Page 7 of Brutal Game

I couldn’t say…because you’re a mystery when no one else is, and I want to know everything about you, from the color of your panties to your nightmares. Because the minute someone knows who I am, they’ll do anything to please me because they want to use me, but you don’t. Because you checked your friend’s beer bottle without having to think about it. Because you seem to hate me, and it pisses me off but only makes me want you more.

Aviva was overwhelmed by me, and the only thing keeping her from fleeing was the thick attraction between us. She was intrigued, despite herself, and I had to rein in my impulse to steamroll her, or she’d be gone.

I like a chase, don’t get me wrong.

But I preferred having her within my grasp.

So I ignored her question, asking the one that was really plaguing me. “Is scoring a hockey player on your bucket list?” The thought pissed me off…that I might be interchangeable to her.

Rising onto her toes, Aviva wrapped her arms around my neck, and whispered in my ear. “There’s only one thing on my bucket list, Jack Feldman. But even if it were a mile long, hockey players wouldn’t be on it.Ever.”

Her honest answer was equally relieving and aggravating. I needed to know what that one thing was—and then I needed to get rid of it so her one thing wasme.

“Then why are you dancing with me?” I asked.

“I’m not dancing with you.”

I tightened my grip on her hips. “Feels like it to me.”

“You forced me to.”

I laughed again. She could’ve fought me harder, if she really wasn’t interested.

“Princess, I think you like being forced.”

Her gasp was quick, short, and made my cock go so thick and hard it hurt.

“Don’t—”

But she smelled like apples and honey, and she was soft and warm and round, and so I didn’t really care what protest she’d come up with next, or why she was anti-hockey, or why she seemed to both be drawn to me and hate me.Nothing had ever felt as good as Aviva’s body in my arms, tight, trapped—and I was going to take what I’d wanted since I’d first seen her.

Releasing her waist with one hand, I gripped the back of her neck to keep her from escaping, and lowered my mouth to hers.

She resisted at first, but the feel of her soft lips on mine, the sexy, surprised moan, it all made me want to push her harder. I took her mouth in a brutal, claiming, almost punishing kiss, forcing her lips open to take my tongue, got lost in the taste of her, the heat of her, the sound and smell and feel of her. She squirmed against me; I refused to let her go.

And then when she moaned again and softened into my arms, lowering her arms to wrap around my waist, well. That was it.

I was a motherfucking goner.

The world shifted on its axis. Even fucking gravity disappeared. The people around us certainly disappeared. Just me and her and this raging satisfaction.

Mine.

And then she bit my lip, hard. I pulled back.

“What the fuck? You want to play rough, princess?”

She raised a hand to her mouth, and the dazed look in her eyes didn’t match her tone when she said, “I don’t want to play rough. I don’t want to play at all.”

The lie pissed me off.

“Bullshit.”

I leaned back in for more, but she was too fast for me, ducking underneath my arm and, with one final look at me, dashing out of the living room, out of the house—and, if she got her say, out of my life.

Too bad she’d caught the attention of a predator.

Like I said—I love a good chase.

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