Page 101 of The Prodigal

A grin pulls at his lips as he shoves me inside aggressively, kicking the door closed behind him. “What about earlier?”

“Oh, you’re going to make up for earlier. I’m thinking of washing your mouth out with my pussy juices. Maybe that will teach you not to lie to me again.”

He nods seriously. “The punishment is harsher than I expected, but I’m willing to endure whatever it takes to atone for my behavior.”

Gah, I’m going to fuck him hard tonight.

“Good,” I praise. “Then it’s settled. You are my hero-ish villain to stab whenever I want.”

“As long as you promise to make it hurt.”

I flash him a smile. “I’m glad you feel that way.” Stepping forward, I pluck the phone from his hand and slip it into my back pocket. “Strip, 101. I want to see all of you.”

His dark brow rises. “Don’t get too brave, love. I feel guilty, but notthatguilty.”

Meaning, he’s being very generous by allowing me to pretend to run him right now.

And that’s totally fine.

I want him to lose control.

I want to see the real him—the one who keeps nothing from me.

“Your shirt, Remington. Now.”

For a moment, all we do is stand there, facing off with one another. His eyes speak of pain and apologies, but the bulge in his jeans speaks to claim and absolution.

“Should I make you?” I ask when he continues to challenge me.

“Yeah,” he clips, his lips twitching while he fights off a smile, “I think I’d like to see you try.”

“Done.” I tip my chin, accepting his challenge, before turning and walking to the window, throwing the curtains open for the world to witness him losing.

“Promise you won’t be a sore loser?” Turning and leaning against the window, I flash Remington a smug smile that he reciprocates.

“You forget, love, I don’t lose.”

He does.

The text messages on his phone prove that he forfeited his game with Albrecht.

“But you forget, Adam. You’ve never played my game.”

I don’t go down easily.

Those brown eyes of his seem to sparkle in the dim lighting as he prowls forward, coming to a stop directly in front of me. “All right, Eve,” he drawls wickedly, “let’s play.”

Without another thought, I rip off my shirt and toss it at his feet. “If you don’t remove your shirt, love,” I threaten, “the next thing the guests will see is my ass pressed up against the window.”

Still, he doesn’t move.

The only way I know I’m getting to him is by the way his fists ball at his sides.

“Have it your way.” I shrug, pulling his phone from my pocket and setting it on the windowsill before sliding my sleep shorts to the floor.

Remington growls and starts to step forward.

“Ah, ah,” I scold. “You know the rules.”

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