Page 28 of Bound By Them
She shakes her head. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you want me to say it over and over?”
I lean in close. She leans back, but it only puts her right up against Troy. They look good together. His giant bulk, her angelic form.
Rubbing my fingertip over her knuckles, I say, “It’s an experiment.”
“What? How the fuck is me saying I hate you an experiment?”
“I need a baseline. If I know what it sounds like now, then I’ll know if it sounds different when my tongue is teasing your clit.”
10
Danica
The truth is, I don’t hate him. And the way he asked me to say it over and over again only made it clearer.
I don’t hate Edmund Layton.
But I should.
He’s a rich prick. And he’s part of a crime family that has historically hated my own. If it wasn’t hard enough learning that my granddad is the head of a crime family, it was even harder when Dmitri told me the Laytons are our sworn enemies.
I should hate Edmund. Troy, too. And yet…then I’ll know if it sounds different when my tongue is teasing your clit. Holy hippos in a hamster wheel. My mind flashes back to that night, over a week ago. The way his fingers pressed against me, into me. Even now, he rubs a finger over one of my knuckles as if it were my clit.
And I feel it there. As if he’s touching me intimately.
With every circle of his fingertip on my knuckle, an insistent thrum grows between my legs.
“Do you hate me, Danica?” Edmund’s voice is a whisper, but it’s all I can hear.
I scramble to come up with the right answer. Do I hate him? I don’t. But it’s not like I can tell him that.
We pull into a parking garage. This is their building. Like last time I came here with Troy, we bypass the public elevator and use a private one, protected with a code. Troy’s body blocks the keypad as he punches in the numbers. By design, probably.
I am the enemy, after all.
The elevator looked big enough until the three of us stepped inside. Now it feels tiny. These two men are larger than life, taking up all the space. It’s hard to breathe without inhaling their sharp, clean scents.
Edmund takes my hand again. And again, my pussy throbs in response. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to relieve the wanton ache.
Edmund leans down and rasps in my ear, “I’m going to kiss you.”
“The absolute nerve.” Yet I feel myself melting. Maybe it’s pheromones. Freaky fucktastic pheromones. Because the idea of a kiss with Edmund? And…maybe with Troy? It’s doing all kinds of things to my body.
As if he can read my thoughts, Edmund smiles. “If you want me to kiss you, tell me again that you hate me.”
There’s absolutely no question in my mind. “I hate you?—”
His mouth covers mine in a kiss so scorching, it’s a wonder the elevator doesn’t burst into flames. I cling to his shoulders and kiss him back, parting my lips and sending my tongue forward to seek his. He sucks at me greedily, then thrusts his tongue alongside mine.
The elevator chimes softly, breaking the moment. I pull back, embarrassed, only to find Troy staring openly at me with a heated gaze.
I want to kiss him, too. I don’t know what’s come over me.
I want them both.
No. Impossible.
But a tiny voice in the back of my head whispers, Yes. Possible.
