Page 95 of Sinister Intentions

It couldn’t, right?

A sudden fear gripped me. I hated how effortlessly he controlled me just now. How good it felt. How I wanted more, andsimultaneously just cuddling into him and forgetting everything was perfect, as well.

The thought of defying him when he was so caring only added to my unease.

But nothing changed the situation we were in.

Right?

Right.

I avoided looking at him, then fixed my bra.

He waited, watched me, then opened the door and got out with me in his arms as if I weighed nothing.

Once he stood, he helped me untangle myself from him even though everything inside of me wanted to cling to him, be carried by him, stay in his arms just a little bit longer.

I kept my gaze fixed on the ground. I needed to find a way to untangle myself and get away from him. No matter my feelings.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Islung my arm around her and led her to the elevator. A part of me wanted her to trust me, to lean on my strength. While another part of me admired her spunk.

The elevator doors opened, and she stole a glance at me, and I tightened my arm around her.

I wouldn’t put it past her to try to run.

Even now.

Even after what had just happened.

How could someone so young and innocent be so headstrong and unreasonable? My body tensed at the spoken objections in her words.

“This doesn’t change anything.”

Didn’t change anything, my ass. What just happened changed everything.

Every single thing.

The way she’d come apart in my arms had been perfection. She’d been tight. I could even feel her reflexively tighten when I pushed a single finger inside. I’d had my fair share of virgins, and I bet everything Jemma Donnelly was still a virgin.

And drunk.

Fuck.

I sighed. Every time she glared at me, when she faced me without an ounce of fear or respect, I temporarily forgot how fucking young and inexperienced she was, how utterly ill-equipped she was to handle someone like me.

I should’ve stayed as far away from her as possible after that kiss. Should stop this.

I laughed at myself, and the self-deprecating sound made her give me a sideways glance before she averted her eyes again.

Should. Should. Should. As if I didn’t know myself well enough to know I wouldn’t.

This marked the end of me dicking around. It was the end of pretending I would ever allow my brother to marry my little punk.

A surge of indignation battled inside of me. I made a mess of things—a miscalculation on my part. Though, in all fairness, I’d settled on this plan before I met her.

Before I got to know her.

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