Page 91 of Sinister Intentions

The leather of the seat beneath me squeaked as I shifted and turned to face Vince.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, jaw clenched tight enough I could see a vein jump in the twilight.

I bit back a smirk. For someone so controlled, he sure lost his cool easily. “So, is this what you do?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Act like a caveman on impulse, then regret it and pretend like nothing happened?”

Vince’s eyes flicked to me, dark and intense. “What exactly are you referring to?”

Heat bloomed in my cheeks as memories of our kiss in the library flooded back. The urgency, the hunger, the way his body felt against mine. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the tingling sensation that raced across my skin.

“Oh, I don’t know, there’s so much to choose from,” I said, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe kidnapping me? Or whatever this was right now. Or that kiss.”

The car swerved slightly as Vince’s grip tightened on the wheel. “You really think if I acted on impulse I would still be alive?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Trust me, Punk, there’s hardly anything I do that isn’t calculated.”

I rolled my eyes, even as a shiver ran down my spine. “Right. Because almost drowning me in your pool was totally part of some master plan.”

He gritted his teeth, which I couldn’t see, but I heard the grinding sound.

“And dragging me out of there and ending my friend’s career by breaking his bones was calculated? That’s the kind of person you are?”

“You have no idea what kind of person I am. And you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Vince growled.

I leaned closer, the scent of his cologne making my head spin. “And you have no idea who you’re dealing with. Face it, you’ve got anger issues and zero impulse control.”

I had been so focused on him, I’d lost awareness of the surroundings, so when the car rolled to a stop in a perfectly lit underground parking garage, I was surprised and disoriented.

He pushed the button, and the engine’s purr went silent.

His eyes met mine, blazing with an intensity that made my breath catch. “Is that so? And since you know me so well, I suppose you think I regret that kiss, too?”

I nodded, and the air between us crackled with tension. I wanted to look away, to break whatever spell he had over me, but I couldn’t. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized just how deep I was in over my head with him.

Why was I poking the bear? And how could I be both attracted and appalled by him?

What was this strange pull he had on me? Somehow, beneath his menacing front, despite us being enemies; despite knowing I should stay as far away from him as possible, there was this craving to be close, to get under his skin, to get to know the real Vince Salvini.

“Let’s go,” he said, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. I was not ready to face him in his apartment or have this talk. “No,” I whispered, then cleared my throat and repeated louder, “No. I’m not going anywhere with you ever again.”

He exhaled noisily, then leaned closer, his scent—a heady mix of cologne and something uniquely him—even stronger. He grabbed my chin and forced me to face him. His eyes flashed dangerously in the low light. “Don’t test me, not again, not right now. You should know I’m not playing around. I’ll just carry you up and tie you to a chair if I have to.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks when I remembered how being tied to that chair had triggered the biggest panic attack I’d ever had. How it had felt to be thrown over his shoulder; how humiliated I was when he rested his hand on my ass earlier.

Humiliated—not even a little bit excited.

Right?

Right.

That tingly feeling had been caused by blood rushing through my head. It had just been adrenaline or the alcohol. I had surely not been turned on by being manhandled by this brute.

“I’d like to see you try,” I snapped, trying to mask my conflicting emotions with bravado.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. “If you insist on behaving like a brat, I have no problem treating you like one or disciplining you. A good spanking does wonders sometimes…”

He trailed off, and my breath caught in my throat, and my stomach fluttered. Did he just say what I thought he said? And did he mean…

The threat in his eyes was clear, but there was something else. He was somehow waiting, staring, gauging my reaction.

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