Page 10 of Lust
“Two months since you last insulted me.”
Yeah, sure, Joe. That’s why you’re staying away from her. Keep telling yourself that, maybe one day it will stick.
He strode to the kitchen and placed the ball on the counter. It glared back at him, so he turned his back.
Liza’s eyes seemed to soften, and Joe could have sworn guilt flashed in those whiskey caramel depths. But as usual, she brushed off his pain as though he was an afterthought. He mentally shook his head. She hadn’t changed a bit.
“What insults?” she scoffed.
Every muscle in his body went rigid, and a familiar wash of pathetic capitulation urged him to ignore her until he squashed it down. Not this time. Never again.
He didn’t know why he’d assumed she’d see him differently the last time they’d met. He’d spent years with the FBI, training to be... what was it her brothers had said all those years ago?
“You’ll never be good enough for her.”
He’d spent the past half-decade learning to match the high standards her family had set, to begood enough. But that was the thing. He’d never wanted to begood enough. He’d wanted to bebetter.And better was a fool’s dream, for the line was always shifting, and sometimes it was he who shifted it.
“What insults?” he repeated incredulously and began a slow prowl toward her doubting, beautiful face. Maybe she saw the steely determination in his eyes, or maybe his new bulkier frame dwarfed her athletic physique, but she backed up until her rear hit the wall next to the door.
Well, I’ll be damned.Liza-fucking-Lazarus, the woman who made her own rules and bowed to no one, backed up. Because of him.
Maybe this was the kind of man she’d needed all along. Forget the nice guy, she wanted an alpha-asshole, just like her dickhead brothers. Learning this may have filled the old Joey with naïve hopes, but Joe Luciano, FBI Special Agent in Violent Crimes, had no fucks to give.
His lip curled as he placed a palm on the wall next to her face.
“Let me refresh your memory. One. Last. Time.” He changed the tone of his voice to high-pitched, so it was clear who’d said the next words. “What does your boyfriend think of my dress? Joey’s saving himself for marriage. The only date Joey goes on is with his right hand.” He relaxed his tone. “You want me to go on?”
She stared blankly for a moment before rallying with a sarcastic pout. “Aw. Poor baby Joey. I hurt your feelings. You want me to fetch your diary so you can write about it?”
He slammed his other palm on the wall, caging her in. She didn’t startle. She never did. It was as though she lived in a constant state of awareness, that she was prepared for this kind of intimidation at every turn. Did the woman ever relax?
She gave a small laugh. “Fuck off, Joey. I was only kidding. Jeez.”
“Kidding?” He leaned in until his nose was an inch from hers. “Your jokes had the entire precinct thinking I was some pansy asexual robot.”
She tried to laugh it off. “You know what the guys are like there. You have to be crude or you don’t fit in, especially for a woman. Besides, it was kind of true. You never went on dates. You never felt an iota of lust for anyone, and do you know what? I accept you no matter what sexual orientation. Don’t blame me for stating the truth.”
His eyes narrowed. “And how, exactly, would you know what the truth is?”
She blinked. “I mean. It was clear. Obviously.”
His gaze dipped to her lips, to the soft, sensual pillow of her generous mouth. How he’d dreamed of those lips. How they’d kept him company for nights on end. How they’d given him wood, just from watching her take a sip from her Starbucks coffee using a straw so her teeth wouldn’t stain.
He met her gaze with a challenge on his own. “Obviously, you never looked down.”
The air between them crackled with tension. It snapped at his skin, skittered down his stomach, and wrapped its hot little fingers around his cock. The towel tightened around his hips. And through it all, he held her gaze, daring her to look down.
For once in your fucking life, notice me, Liza.
Her lashes lowered. Stopped at his crotch. A hissed intake of breath and then—
Knock-knock-knock.
“Come on, G-Man. We’re here!” someone shouted through the door. Sounded like Houlahan.
He checked the clock on the kitchen wall and cursed. They must have flashed their badges to get into the building, much like Liza probably had.
“They’re early,” he muttered.
