Page 225 of Bad for Me

“It’s late and cold outside. You can wear this until someone grabs your bag in the morning.”

She bristles at the sound of my gruff, cutting voice, an annoyed look on her face. “I’m not wearing your clothes, Jude.”

“Well that’s what you’ll get.” I put them down on the upholstered bench at the end of the bed, then stare her down. I don’t know why I’m willing to fight her on this, but I want her in my clothes. I want some kind of claim on her now that there’s nothing standing in my way.

“Fuck you,” she spits, bypassing me and walking out of the room, in nothing but her birthday suit. I grab the clothes before following her.

She walks down the hall, the stairs, and then walks around the foyer, searching for something.

“What are you doing, Wisteria Jean?”

“Where are the keys?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have perfectly good clothes for you here,” I grit, trying to hold back my exasperation at her stubbornness.

“I’d rather sleep naked in the cold and freeze my tits off than wear your clothes. If you won’t give me your keys, I’ll bash the fucking window in.”

She unlocks the front door, then marches out into the cold toward the car. I catch up to her halfway there, and grab her elbow to turn her around.

“Stop being a spoiled little brat,” my breath clouds in front of my face, as does hers. Her breasts heave with the rise and fall of her chest, and her nipples are rock hard from the cold. “You’re walking around buck naked out here in the freezing cold!”

“Get off me!” she wrenches her arm free from my hold, continuing her path to the car. Her breath puffs in front of her face.

“Wisteria!” I shout. “Get back here!” Men tour the perimeter of the compound and I don’t want any of them seeing her exposed like this.

She’s only for our eyes.

She ignores me, and I’ve about had it with her. When she gets to the car, she bends over to pick up a rock from the ground. I grab her, swinging her around and shoving her against the door. My chest brushes against hers, and I can feel her shivering.

“If you so much as think about throwing that rock through the window, you’ll regret it, thistle,” I grunt, grabbing her wrist and taking the rock away from her. I throw it into the dark somewhere.

“I regret ever meeting you, Jude.” A tear slides down her cheek, and I hold her jaw, tipping it up so I can wipe the tear away with my thumb. “I wish you’d left me back in New York. You don’t even give a fuck about me.”

“Watch your mouth,” I warn her. I hate when she says shit like that, because it isn’t true.

“You’re a selfish, manipulative prick, and I feel sorry for you. You have no passion. No heart. You’re empty inside,” she screams at me.

I lower my hand down to her throat, feeling the goosebumps along her skin. Her pulse thrums, strong and steady. I collar her neck and squeeze slightly, so she can’t move.

“Let's get one thing straight, Wisteria Jean Flowers. I care about you, always have. More than any stepbrother should care about his little stepsister. I care about you so much it drives me fucking insane. When you left, I did the right thing and let you live a safe life. Being away from you made me want to tear the fucking world apart.”

She struggles against my hold and tries to escape, but I hold firm. She’s going to hear this whether she wants to or not.

“And now I want to tear myself apart because there’s nothing in the way of me showing you how I really feel, but I fucked everything up so badly that you’ll hate me for the rest of your life.”

She stands there, silently glaring at me. Then the corners of her mouth curl into a wicked cat-like smile.

“It’s what you deserve.”

Those four words make me snap. I turn her around, pushing between her shoulder blades until her breasts and stomach rest on the car.

“You’ve been gone for six years, thistle, so I’m going to do you a kindness and remind you of a few things.” I rub her ass cheeks with my hand, trying to warm up her cold skin. “I always get what I want.”

I spank her left cheek hard, the sound echoing through the silence of the night, then rub the red handprint I leave behind. She scoffs and huffs, her reaction not quite angry enough.

“I’m in charge here–I run this fucking farm and all the people on it.”Spank. “You’ve been mine ever since we were children, no matter how much you hated me or wished you’d never met me.”

I spank her right cheek three times in succession, to drive the point home. She gasps after each one, but stops struggling after the first. “And I know you feel the exact same way about me. I’ll do what I have to do to work through this with you, but you’re going to respect me in my own fucking home. Do I make myself clear?”

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