Page 83 of Inflame

And still, he will be unsatisfied.

“I have only one regret from tonight,” I say simply, feeling bold.

“Oh, is that right, Nic Hoffman?” she sneers. “And what is that?”

“Not offering Maxwell a million to take your asshole.”

“You are so sick,” she lashes back.

And then I feel it. The sting from the force of her hand. The sound echoes in my ears, as the pain radiates from my cheekbone up to my eye. I don’t even flinch. I revel in it actually—because I fucking deserve her rage. I need her to be angry. Anger gets the ball moving. And right now, she has a boulder to move in the shape of Ethan Maxwell. I’m over her being complacent in this life she has accepted, probably feeling there is no way out of the rut she found herself in. But there is. And if I have to lead her to the exit, so be it.

The shocked look on Claire’s face has me smirking. She probably didn’t think she had it in herself to finally serve to me what I obviously deserved. But at least she reacted appropriately. She scares me when she loses her fire.

I wipe the bourbon from my lips and upgrade my smirk to a full-on smile.

“Quit looking so smug or I’ll hit you again.”

“Good.”

“Good? Why is it good?” she demands.

“Because at least you are exhibiting some type of emotion. Plus, I deserve it. Hit me again if it helps you move forward. I promise not to enjoy it so much this round.”

“I hate you.”

“So you’ve said. But you probably hate yourself more,” I counter, and by the twitch of her eye, I realize I am correct. I tip my glass in her direction. “And that there is the problem. Out of all the people to be pissed off at, you are missing the point entirely.”

Spinning on her seat, she takes a sip from her glass. “The only thing I’m missing is the peace and quiet I had prior to you plopping your ass down here to make my life even worse.”

There she is. Welcome back, Feisty Claire. “I’m going to have such fun ruining you for all other men.” My words come out flirty, and it is because I’m grasping at anything to get Claire to wake up. Anyone would be better for her than the man who is probably sleeping comfortably upstairs without a care in the world as to where his girlfriend is right now.

“Who says you will ever get a chance to have me?”

“Oh, Claire, I already possess your thoughts. Your body will wake up and follow suit next.”

“You are delusional.”

I can’t help but allow my lips to lift up at the corners. “Every time you close your eyes at night and lie beside that man, you will think of me. Think of what I can give you. I don’t need to touch you to prove to you that I can do better. But be warned, I’m very demanding in bed.”

“We can’t date. Ever.”

“I never said anything about some courtship, Claire.”

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” Her words are sarcastic and matter-of-fact.

“But just for curiosity’s sake, why am I undatable? Is it because I have a brain? Your ultimate deal breaker.”

She makes a face at me, sticking out her tongue. If she knows what’s good for her, she will put it back in her mouth before I do something about her sass.

“Because you are filthy rich,” she says simply.

“And…?”

“And men like you are lazy.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup. You rich men aren’t used to needing to be good in bed. You just flock to the smell of pussy and once you get your fix, you peace out.”

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