Page 24 of Wrath
“Bullshit,” she said. “We’re not done.”
She mustn’t understand the danger she toyed with.
“Wyatt. Get here, now.”
He could crush her.
Gathering his patience, he stood at the glass sliding doors and distracted himself with the neighborhood scenery. The sun was still up. He still had time to get on his bike and leave, maybe make the next town before dark.
A rustling sound behind him.
“Wyatt,” she growled. “Look at me.”
The husky timbre of her voice had him turning involuntarily.
Naked.
Completely naked, lying on the bed he’d slept in for the past few weeks, stroking the sheets enticingly. Soft, silky skin. Round breasts, pink nipples. His mouth went dry. She flirted with death, and it stoked every fire in his body. He was there in an instant, yanking her by the shoulders, crushing their lips together, kissing with retribution, teeth knocking.You want a taste of death? You want to kiss away your life?
Fingers into his hair, pulling until tiny sparks of pain shot through his scalp. He was afraid to hurt her, but she was stronger than he realized. Demanding. Surprises around every corner… and he… and he liked them. When he thrust his tongue into her mouth and hit the slick sensation of her own thrusting back, a groan ripped from his raw throat. Her taste made him heady.
With a gasp, she shoved him hard, and squirmed away, eyes lighting like fireworks.
Already undone, he reached for her, wanting, and she shot him a cheeky grin, evading his grasp, giggling. “Come and get it,Chef.”
A game. Always a fucking game.
He lunged.
She kicked out—foot hitting his chest—keeping him at a distance while she impaled him with lust-drenched eyes.
“Fuck, you make me so hot, Wyatt. Take your clothes off,” she demanded. “I want to see that incredible body. Make me hotter.”
She was insane. Obstinate. Naughty. Fun.
Part of him wanted to wrench her foot away, the other part—the hard part—shouted for him to do as he was told. He’d never met a woman who could match his stubbornness full on. But wasn’t that what he always wanted? A woman who called bullshit on his unmoving and strident tendencies? Shame not to see this through.
One night.
He reached over his shoulders, gripped his shirt and pulled it off. She slowly removed her foot to make way for the shirt. That woman had the core strength of an athlete. The knowledge of the positions he could move her into jerked his cock with sweet anticipation.
“Now your jeans.” A throaty challenge.
He pushed them down and stepped out.
Misha’s eyes grew laden as she took him in. How they glowed with promise as they dipped to his arousal. He liked the way she licked her lips, liked the way she desired him.
This is just one time,he reminded himself.One time.
And then he would be out of there.
If she wanted to flirt with danger, fine. He’d be the bastard she wanted. He’d fuck her hard.
Before he knew what was happening, she jumped onto him, straddling his waist. They careened back into the wall, crashing, shaking the foundations. She laughed.
The crazy woman was having fun.
Gripping her thighs for support, mouths clashed and tongues dueled. He didn’t know what they were trying to get from each other, but it was raw, passionate, and desperate. If they didn’t have each other, right then, the world would fall apart.
