Page 11 of Not In Love

He dragged a hand through his hair, the words scraping up his throat. “Doesn’t have to be like this between us, Kash.”

Something flickered behind those wide brown eyes, but she smothered it fast. “Maybe if you spent less time composing haikus about what a bitch I am,” she said sweetly, “you’d find me easier to deal with.”

“I never said that.”

“No, only that I was heartless.”

“I said you veil your heart.”

“Oh, forgive me, asshole, for not translating the trash haiku you wrote about me perfectly!”

With each word they lobbied back and forth, his own control simmered closer to the edge.

His gaze dropped, eager to take the rest of her in. Eyes red and shoulders tense, she looked like she’d fought something, herself probably, and lost. And in that moment, he knew Kash would never give in to what she considered beneath her, what she considered forbidden, what she considered a weakness.

And he fell straight into each of those categories.

She had to be won over, kicking and screaming, in all the ways that he wanted. A thrill washed over him at the idea.

He stepped closer, pitching his voice low. “All I want is for you to admit that you’re desperate, Kash, and ask for help. Just that.”

Her eyes widened—barely—but enough. Enough for him to see the spark flare there, sharp and dangerous. “No.”

“Why not? You’ve been hitting on anything that moves this past week. It’s been...” he let the pause gather momentum, “entertaining to watch.”

“You’re one to talk,” she shot back. “At least I don’t pant after people who can’t stand me.”

The space between them snapped tight, something unspoken vibrating in the air. His pulse hammered, every muscle strung taut. But he couldn’t stop now.

She didn’t get it—how easily she lit the fuse every time she opened that sharp mouth. Didn’t get how goddamn tightly he was holding on, trying not to wreck everything he’d been building just to get a taste of her.

He let the silence stretch, gaze deliberately sweeping—slow & lingering—down her body.

That tank top clinging to her curves. The skimpy bike shorts that outlined her shape for him. Her thick, toned thighs smooth. The pulse beating furiously at her throat.

Her chest rose and fell fast, breath shallow, like she was vibrating under her own skin.

She moved closer and the scent of her coiled tight around his balls, dripping heat down his spine like molten lava. “The woman you were dancing with tonight,” she said, voice soft but lethal, “does she know you have a daughter you once abandoned?”

It hit like a sucker punch, straight to his ribs.

His breath stalled, blood roaring in his ears. Leave it to Kash to take it there, to rip open the wound that was just healing.

“Maybe I should ask why you’ve been keeping such close tabs on me,” he murmured, proud of how steady he sounded.

She crossed her arms, but it only pushed those glorious tits higher, nipples hard under the thin fabric. “Maybe I enjoy your puppy-dog eyes trailing after me.”

His fingers curled into fists, pulse pounding. Every word out of her mouth was another jab, another vise-like squeeze of his cock. It was a dangerous game they were playing, one that had no rules and yet…it was the most thrilling moment in his life in the last few years.

She could bloody him, and he would still be into her…fuck, they were in so much trouble.

“How desperate are you, Kash?” His voice dropped, rough, cutting. “I mean you told me that you planned to hook up with your ex here. But I guess your friend Chaaru got there first, huh? So now you’re looking for your next sugar daddy to bend over for?”

Her nostrils flared, her cool mask faltering. Then she laughed—a sharp, breathless sound—and stepped right into his space, heat radiating between them.

“Don’t bring Simon into this,” she breathed, gaze flicking to his mouth.

Diego swallowed hard. If she broke down and broke apart, he would put the pieces back together, whatever it took. He would hold her through anything, if only she leaned on him.

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