Page 38 of The Prodigal

“And what way is that?”

I shrug. “Well, Albrecht is an attorney, and most attorneys I know don’t do their own filing—even if it’s for their illegal adoptions.”

“Still doesn’t answer my question.”

It’s like talking to a brick wall.

“We’re going to break into Albrecht’s office and steal the information we need.”

That plan puts a smile on his face. “Really? You? Little Miss Sweet and Gullible? You want to commit a crime with me?”

“Do you have a problem with that?” My stomach knots, either with fear or excitement. I can’t tell. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done. “Surely, this won’t be the first time you’ve broken the law.”

He steps forward, his eyes flashing with something like intrigue. “You would be correct. I’ve committed many crimes.”

I can feel the heat of his body churning the intensity in the air. Remington may not like me, but he’s definitely intrigued—or he just enjoys playing games. Who knows, really?

“Are you scared of me now, princess?”

I can taste the challenge between us, and it enthralls me more than it should.

I push in closer. “Areyouscared, 101? Because your uncertainty screams… pussy—”

It was the wrong thing to say. I realize that as soon as his hand claps over my mouth, and he spins me around, his angry voice at my ear. “Don’t use words I enjoy, love.”

His hips grind into mine, and all coherent thought leaves my brain as his thick length presses into my ass.

“The next time you call me a pussy, I’ll wash your mouth out with my cock and see if you’re still feeling brave.”

Embarrassing heat pools between my thighs.

“Do you understand me?”

I nod under his hold.

“I’m afraid of no one. Not you and sure as fuck not Albrecht.”

His breaths are slow and steady, but I can feel the energy pulsing through his body as he drops his hand and steps back.

But I just can’t leave well enough alone. I love testing his boundaries.

“Then prove it. Let’s go to Nevada.”

It’s fall break, and instead of working, I’m finally going on a trip.

To Nevada—with a man who is currently ignoring me as he throws our bags into the car with unnecessary force.

He’s angry.

I get that.

But I still don’t care.

“Motherfucker! How many bags did you bring?” Remington snaps.

I arch a brow and notice a fine sheen of sweat dotting his forehead. “Those areyourbags. You already packed myone.”

There’s no reason to remind him who the diva is in this partnership.

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