Page 34 of Wicked Spite
“Hey, wifey,” I say, wiping milk off my chin with the back of my hand. “Did you know Stabler’s got a thing for handcuffs? I feel a deep soul connection to that man.” I waggle my eyebrows for effect.
“You’re disgusting,” she snaps, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes. She’s amused and who wouldn’t be. I’m goddamn funny. She crosses her arms overher chest, pushing her tits up out of the black St. Charles football tank top I gave her to change into earlier. I was tired of her yapping about letting her sleep in her work clothes. She didn’t even appreciate the damn veil I had made for her.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been called worse,” I shoot back, popping another spoonful of Cheerios into my mouth. Crunch, chew, swallow. All while keeping my eyes locked on her. Fuck, it feels good to play with someone who isn’t so easy to break.
“Seriously, Penn. You’re watching TV like some rich frat boy instead of oh, I don’t know figuring out how you’re going to explain the whole kidnapping, marriage, and general dislike I have for you.”
“You only dislike me because society tells you to. Have I harmed you? Did I violate you? No, I have not. It was a little harmless drugging, kidnapping and marriage,” I say, shrugging as I run my hand through my curls, tugging on a couple of them at the nape of my neck.
“What’s your problem? Were you dropped on your head a lot?” Reagan steps closer. Her presence is magnetic, even when she’s pissed. Especially when she’s pissed.
“I don’t have problems. I have solutions and look at you being here and Mrs. Blackwood. A fucking solution.” I lean back, letting my eyes drift back to the screen where Stabler is roughing up some perp.
“You’re unbelievable,” she mutters, but there’s no heat in it. Just that guarded edge she always carries, like armor against the world.
“Unbelievably charming?” I flash her a grin, knowing it’ll only piss her off more. But that’s part of the fun.
“Try infuriating,” she says, but there’s a softness in her tone now. She better be careful before I think she actually likes me.
“Infuriatingly attractive,” I correct, saluting her.
“Whatever, psycho. I ordered a rideshare to take me back to my apartment.” Her tone is all business now, like she’s trying to regain control.
“Good luck with that,” I laugh, shaking my head. “You might as well cancel it.”
“Uh, no. I need to get back to my place, change, and head to class,” she says, each word dripping with irritation.
“Your apartment is empty,” I say casually, not even bothering to look at her. My eyes are glued to the screen, where Miss Olivia Benson is about to eye fuck the hell out of Stabler. She needs to dog walk that man and have him crawl to her. Now that’s a fucking idea. “So, you’ll be going back to nothing.”
“Excuse you?” Her voice rises an octave, and I can feel her glare burning into the side of my face.
“There’s a duffle bag with some of your shit by the door,” I continue, waving my hand dismissively. “I just haven’t had the chance to give it to you yet but it’s enough for you today including your personal pharmacy. The marathon started, and I got sucked in.”
“Are you serious right now?” she demands, stepping closer, her presence looming over me like a dark cloud.
“Dead serious,” I reply, finally tearing my eyes away from the TV to meet hers. There’s fire there, pure and unfiltered. It’s captivating. I fucking love playing with fire.
“Fuck you, Penn,” she spits, but there’s something else in her eyes. Something vulnerable.
“Oh, by the way, you don’t go to St. James anymore.”
Her mouth falls open, and for a split second, she looks genuinely lost. It’s almost cute.
“You’re now officially a student at St. Charles. Congrats,” I continue, savoring every syllable.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
“Yeah, all tied up in a neat little bow, just for you.” I can’t help but smirk, relishing the chaos I’ve created.
“You’re a real piece of shit,” she hisses, but there’s a crack in her tough exterior.
“I am well aware. You didn’t think I was just going to let my wife live her life away from me, did you?” I reply, leaning back with a satisfied smirk.
“Get out of my face, Penn.” Her voice is barely above a whisper now, raw and exposed.
“Make me.” I taunt, leaning in closer. Our breaths mingle. “Or admit you like it when I take charge.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off with a wave of my spoon. “Relax, you’ve got plenty of time. Class starts in an hour. More than enough to do whatever you need. A deal is a deal, after all.”
