Page 102 of A Kingpin's Weakness
I laughed, humorless. “Maybe to you it wasn’t. But to me? Nah. That shit felt like a slap in the face.”
He licked his lips, frustrated. “You want your get back? Go ahead. Have the bartender pour a shot in your mouth too. I won’t trip.”
“It’s not the same and you know it.”
He crossed his arms, stepping in closer. “Alright, cool. Let RJ do it then.”
That made me really laugh. A hard, bitter laugh. He really thought this was how this was about to go.
“If I wanted a shot in my mouth, I’d pick who poured it. Don’t get it twisted.”
His jaw clenched. “So, who you want to do it then, Stormi?” he asked, moving even closer. His breath brushing my lips now, hot and heavy, like the heat rolling off his body.
This boy had the nerve to be jealous of a situation he created. I could feel his anger, thick in the air, but also something else desire. That unspoken pull between us, tugging at my resolve like it always did.
“Back up, Seth,” I said, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. My voice was weak, and I hated it.
He didn’t move. Instead, he leaned in, burying his face into the curve of my neck. His lips brushed my skin, and I felt my body betray me instantly.
“Damn, you smell so fucking good,” he murmured against my collarbone.
My breath hitched. My hands, which were supposed to push him away, ended up gripping his arms instead. He smelled like cologne, sweat, liquor, and regret. And somehow, it turned me on more than I wanted to admit.
“Seth… move.”
“You look good as fuck, too.” His eyes scanned my body slowly, like he was trying to memorize every curve of me in this damn Dior swimsuit.
“Thank you.” It came out soft. Too soft.
“I missed you, Stormi.”
His words hung in the air, heavy and real. And that’s when he backed up, just enough to reach for the lock on the bathroom door. Click.
“Seth… no.”
I already knew what he was on, and the way my body was reacting, I couldn’t trust myself to say no twice.
“What you mean no?” His voice dropped into that dangerous tone he used when he was serious. “You not mine?” He didn’t wait for my answer. Instead, he stepped in and scooped me up like I weighed nothing.
My legs wrapped around his waistonreflex, and the next thing I knew, my back was pressed against the cold tile of the wall. My breath caught in my throat.
“Seth—”
“Say you not mine.” His face was right there. Eyes dark. Jaw locked. One hand gripping the back of my thigh, the other holding me steady. I didn’t say anything. Because the truth was, I was his.
Even when he got on my damn nerves. Even when I hated how easily he could make me feel wanted and foolish at the same damn time.
He leaned in again, his forehead resting on mine. “You came here for me, right?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “So don’t act like you don’t want me.”
“I’m not doing this with you in this bathroom,” I said, shaking my head, heart still pounding from the mess of emotions inside me.
Seth’s lips curved into that cocky grin; the one that used to melt me, and still did, even when I didn’t want it to.
“Let me just put the head in,” he said low and bold, like this was some kind of joke. It wasn’t.
“Seth, no.” But my voice didn’t carry the strength I needed it to.
“I’m not doing this with you in this bathroom,” I said, pushing my hand against Seth’s chest. My heart was racing, but not just from anger anymore. This man had a way of getting under my skin and making me forget why I was mad in the first place.
