Page 14 of The Inkslinger

“You can fight me on this, but as yourboyfriend,” he says enunciating the word, “I will take care of what is mine.”

And then he kisses me. This isn’t like any kiss I’ve ever experienced. Laine Grey doesn’t just kiss you with his lips. No, this is a whole-body experience. One hand grabs my hip and pushes me harder against the door while his other threads through my hair and angles me exactly how he wants me.

My body responds to his dominance immediately, becoming soft and pliable beneath his ministrations. A small sound escapes me before I gather my wits and push against his chest.

Laine doesn’t disappoint, stopping immediately.

“I never should have insinuated that you were my boyfriend,” I say in a husky tone.

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“This situation is complicated enough without throwing attraction and emotion into the mix,” I counter.

He frowns and the scar on his face pulls taught. I brush my fingers across the raised flesh and his features soften. “Maybe we can just fake date?” I say softly.

“So, no kissing behind closed doors?”

“No. I have a problem, and you want to help me with it. This is how.”

“I may have gotten a little carried away,” he says with a smirk not removing his hands.

“Clearly,” I deadpan.

“I could say I’m sorry but that would be lying.”

“I can’t do this with you,” I say pushing him away again, and this time he releases me.

I need to get out of here and away from him. The man is putting me under some kind of spell that is fucking with my head, and I can’t deal with him right now. I have enough problems without adding to it.

He pulls me back when I finally have the door open. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done that. But I can’t promise I won’t do it again.”

I glare at him before stomping out. Men are a complication I don’t need in my life right now. Jumping in my car, I tear out of the parking space and drive home. It’s only when I see Damien sitting on the porch swing with his black eye that I realize exactly how serious Laine really is.

“Do you want me to hit you again?” I ask as I mount the stairs two at a time, my anger pushing me.

“I brought coffee,” he replies holding up a bag of beans and showing me the expensive machine beside him, still in its box.

“You’re a fast learner,” I smirk. “If I let you in this house, I want the spare key, and you’re not allowed to tell Laine shit.”

“How about I keep the key, just in case of emergency, and I set up your new coffeemaker?” he says with a smile. “And Laine can kiss both our asses.”

I laugh before letting him in. I like this one. At least someone seems to be on my side.

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