Page 86 of Devilish Ink

It was the growl of frustration when she wanted something. When it was right there in front of her. When all she had to do was ask for it…beg for it.

“A scoop of laundry detergent perhaps?” I asked.

I drummed my fingers along my arms as Ry struggled against herself. She didn’t like asking for what she wanted.

But I liked it. I liked it a hell of a lot. I loved hearing her ask, hearing her beg.

She sighed and glared up at me.

“Li-am,” she said, emphasising my name like I was supposed to know what it meant.

I did, of course. But I wasn’t done pretending I didn’t.

“And you’re Ry,” I said, smirking at her.

God, she was adorable when she was pissed.

I stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you,neighbour.”

If Ry was holding a tattoo gun, I would not have been the least bit surprised to have been stabbed by it.

When she did not make a move to shake my hand, I shrugged and tucked it back into my arm folded across my chest.

“What are you doing?” Ry finally asked.

“I was just going to eat dinner actually.”

I thumbed over my shoulder casually as Ry’s knuckles whitened over the crumpled grip of her miniskirt.

“I mean, what are you doing with this place?” she clarified.

I looked over my shoulder into the apartment, the layout a mirror image of Ry’s.

I took my time studying it. I liked when Ry squirmed.

When I turned back to face her, she was about ready to explode.

“You mean like in terms of decorating?” I asked, tapping a finger on my chin. “I don’t know, I kind of go for that minimalist sort of—”

The heel of Ry’s palm packed more of a punch than I would have expected as she shoved me in the chest.

I stepped back half a step and she stormed inside, slamming the door behind her.

“Welcome,” I said as Ry paced angrily in front of me. “Make yourself at home.”

She pointed a finger at me as she spun on her heel and said, “For the last time,nosmiling.”

This, of course, made me smirk all the more.

“Can I offer you a glass of wine?” I asked, heading off toward the kitchen.

“Liam!” Ry shouted after me.

Even with my back turned to her, I could see those little balled-up fingers inked in black.

“Liam, what are youdoing?”

Stepping inside the kitchen, I called back, “I’m decidingbetween a red or a white. What are your thoughts on Merlot? Or are you more in a Sav Blanc kinda mood?”

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