Page 73 of Vicious Arrangement
I stare at him, and something passes between us that makes my stomach swoop.
“So,” I say, “we’re doing more than fucking? Because this morning?—”
He closes his eyes, breaking something in me so that it hurts to breathe. Then he opens them.
“The problem is,” he says, massaging my fingers he’s holding, “I can’t give you anything serious.”
“We’re married.”
“But… I don’t want anyone else,” he says, like I didn’t speak.
“We’re married,” I say again with a laugh. “How much more serious can it get? We. Are. Married.”
“Exactly.” Noah’s eyes flare with savage passion and he lets go of my hand and takes my arm, hauling me close so our bodies touch and my senses go haywire.
I narrow my eyes and look up, trembling from that bite of a touch. Something about the predatory way he’s holding memakes my blood roar. “So, what are you going to do about keeping me from walking out that door?”
“To what? Be with someone else?”
“It could happen. I’m sure there are others who want me, and maybe with serious intent.” I’m poking the lion, and I don’t care it’s hungry.
“Keep away from them. As you said, you’re my wife. You don’t have to like me, just act the fuck like a wife, my wife, my devoted wife.”
“That’s hard,” I say, pulse beating as my blood seems to surge through my veins, making my cheeks burn and my pussy throb. “Because I had to marry you.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, and those sensuous lips turn up slightly in a dark smile offering me a tantalizing glimpse of that dimple in his left cheek,and my stomach flutters as my panties grow wetter.
“And here you are. So start fucking acting like my bride and stop throwing yourself at my friend.”
As turned on as I am, and as furious and as turned as I think he might be, not even his anger pushes him down the one path that could shut me down here.
He doesn’t mention destroying Gramps.
Maybe he knows he doesn’t have to, but somehow I suspect by the way his uneven breathing matches mine and how when he pulls me closer against him, I can feel his erection, and I suspect threats like that aren’t even in his head.
But I lift my head, our mouths close, and push out, “I told you I’ve zero interest in Asher.” I’m shaking as I move in up against him of my own accord. “There’s only one person I want to be with, and he clearly doesn’t give a damn.”
“Who—”
He stops, lips this time so close that the heat is against mine, and his breath teases my sensitive flesh.
“You think,” he says softly, “I don’t give a damn?”
“What else am I meant to think when you act like a lunatic who hates me?”
“I don’t fucking hate you. And obviously I give a damn. If I didn’t this wouldn’t be hard.”
“It wouldn’t be hard, Noah,” I say, “if you reached out or let me in.”
His lips whisper against mine. “You want me to reach out?”
“Yes.”
Noah takes my mouth in a slow, deep, savage kiss. He plunders and rules, it’s a commanding performance meant to break me down and apart and it works. I’m just pliable shards in his hands, a thing to mold into what he wants.
And what he wants is sex.
Dark, wild sex.
