Page 59 of Hell or High Water

Six. He’d had to use that name at a time like this. If he thought I was a six, then why did he want to touch me?

He smirked as he lowered his head to the curve of my neck, and his lips brushed against me there. “Don’t tense up on me,” he warned.

That was asking a lot, considering he’d just reminded me that if he wasn’t stuck with me, he’d not have given me a second glance. And I’d let him stick his fingers in me, and then I’d ridden his hand.

I pulled away from him, needing his distracting mouth off me. Where was my pride? I wasn’t some weak female who spread her legs for any man who tossed her a shred of attention.

He grabbed my chin and turned my face back to look at him. I managed the best scowl I could, but it wasn’t that believable, considering my body was humming with its excitement at his nearness. Traitor.

“Why have you gone stiff and cold on me when you were all soft and needy moments ago?” he asked.

I licked my lips and tried to jerk my chin out of his grasp, but he held on to it firmly.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“I had a momentary lapse of judgment,” I snapped at him.

An amused grin tugged on his lips, and then his knee forced my legs open so that he could cup my crotch and run a finger over the outside of my panties.

“Did you now?” he drawled. Then he leaned closer to me. “Your pussy is so fucking wet that your panties are soaked.”

God! What an arrogant asshole.

“Why do you want to touch me again?” I shot back at him. “I didn’t think sixes interested you.”

He studied me, waiting, as if I were going to say more, and then he moved off me and stood up. I guessed I’d just needed to give him a reminder. It was for the best really. Because if I let him keep doing things to me, I was going to end up hurt. Possibly crushed.

Turning over on my side, I curled my knees up to my chest, but the covers were yanked off me. I looked back over my shoulder to see Than towering over me.

“What—” I started to demand, but he grabbed my hip and flipped me back onto my back.

Then his hand wrapped around my wrist, and he pulled me into a sitting position. It had happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to react.

“Stand up,” he told me, but I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “Get your ass up, or I’ll make you.”

Not wanting him to touch me again, I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and stood.

“What do you want?” I asked.

Taking my wrist again, he led me over to the small bathroom area. When he had me in front of the floor-length mirror that hung beside the sink, he moved behind me and placed his hands on my waist. His eyes were traveling down my reflection, and I hated that my body reacted to his attention.

“I want you to look. Not at me. At you,” he said, bending his head down so his mouth was close to my ear.

“Why?” I asked, feeling entirely too vulnerable.

He ran the back of his hand over my cheek. “Start here.”

I watched his hand slowly glide down to my chin.

“Are you looking?” he asked.

I jerked my eyes off him and tried to look at myself, but it was hard when he was right behind me. “Yes.”

“What do you see?” he asked.

“My face.”

He chuckled, and goose bumps covered my arms. “Yes, and do you see a flaw?”

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