Page 61 of Reckless Temptation

“I do care.”

I shook my head. If he did, he would’ve asked Tiffany to stop. He wouldn’t have bullied me. And he wouldn’t have played games with me for so long.

That was all this was to him. Another game, one more twisted attempt to mess with me.

I couldn’t take it, not when I’d spent all weekend missing him. Wanting him. Hating him but liking him even more. Something had to be wrong in my head for me to admit he was getting to me. But it was the defeatist nature of my secret that I scorned more.

I’d failed.

I’d let him get close. I’d given my bully an opportunity to sneak close and matter.

“This isn’t fair.” I blinked, despising the tears burning at my lids. “It’s not fair of you to do this to me.”

He stepped into my space, hugging me. Being folded into his embrace made me dare to want even more with him.

With his big hands bracing my back, I sank against him, too much of a glutton for punishment to not want his comfort, to not want to revel in his warmth and the illusion of security I oddly felt with him.

“I never asked for you to interrupt my life like this.”

He kissed my temple, gathering me closer into a snug hug.

“I don’t want you around and making me feel like this,” I whispered.

“Like what?” he replied in a gravelly rasp, nuzzling his cheek against mine as he seemed to seek out my lips.

“Off balance.”

He sighed, tightening his arms around me. “Me too.”

“Confused,” I added.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“And helpless to stop wanting you,” I admitted as I turned my face toward his. His warm breath mingled with mine. Our mouths were just an inch apart. Prompted by the sweep of liquid-hot desire lancing through me, I reached up to kiss him.

He grunted against my lips, and just as he dipped lower to deepen the kiss, he fisted the back of my shirt.

“So fucking helpless,” he growled after he came up for air.

I swallowed, searching his face for a reminder of why this had to be a really stupid idea. He didn’t look like the man I loathed anymore. He didn’t resemble my enemy. Somehow, he’d become something of an anchor. A rock. A source of security and protection.

When he kissed me again, I didn’t resist. Used to his impatience and how much he would dominate me, I softened under his touch and let him show me what he wanted. Exploring and tasting. Nipping and licking. Making out with me, he took me back to the pleasure and thrill of going for what I wanted—like we had done in the pool house mere days ago.

It felt like a lifetime had passed since I’d last tasted his lips and felt the greedy grip of his hands on me. But when he reached down to move my hands up, so I could loop my arms around his neck, I was jolted back to reality.

The haze of desire evaporated a little bit when he touched the stinging ache of the cut on my palm.

I hissed, breaking the kiss as I furrowed my brow.

What am I doing?

How can he get to me like this?

I frowned, stepping back, but he didn’t let me evade his clutch.

“I’m helpless for you, Sabrina,” he reminded me. “Helpless to stop how much I crave you.”

This was naughty. So reckless, it had to be insane. I was supposed to be working here. We’d mutually pointed out that he was supposed to be my enemy. But I was far too tempted by him to fight any harder to get away. My conscience would have to just shut up for a moment. Because as he kissed me again, backing me toward a table, all I could focus on was how good it felt. How right it was to share this private, intimate moment with him.

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