Page 82 of Don't Make Me Beg
So rather than facing her and having to pretend I wasn’t pissed off, I arranged for a driver to bring her home and left her a note telling her that I’d be upstairs working late. I just needed some time to regroup. I’m obviously not thinking straight from all this backed-up sexual tension. It’s certainly caused me to forget all the history between us—the good and the bad.
I catch sight of her walking into the kitchen and feel myself perking up when I see she’s wearing one of my t-shirts and some boxer shorts… Her hair’s wet and freshly brushed like she’s just gotten out of the shower, and I can almost smell her shampoo just from the sight of her.
There’s a satisfied smile on her face as she bends down to dig through the fridge to find something to heat up for dinner—another thing I have to feel guilty about. I hate that I didn’t feed her tonight. It’s a small thing but knowing how she grew up eating her mom’s shit cooking and seeing how excited she was every time she got to stay late and eat dinner at my house, it’s something I’ve always tried to do for her. I want her to be able to eat food she actually likes… not just accept what she’s been given because someone else chose it for her.
I continue watching her, and my cock twitches in my pants when, rather than sitting in a chair at the kitchen island, she instead lifts herself up and sits on the counter. Her bare legs dangling as she eats a bowl of cereal and chats with L.O.K.I., telling him all about the progress she made on the mural.
There’s something about the way she throws her head back, laughing at whatever he just said, that sends a surge of possessive rage tearing through me. What the fuck could L.O.K.I. have said that was that funny? I created him for fuck’s sake, and she never laughs like that around me. At this point, I’m halfway convinced she wants me to see her flirting. I think back to her pouting the other day while we shopped for supplies, and suddenly it all clicks into place.
Is this because I took her vibrator charger? Is she trying to get back at me by flirting with everyone and provoking me by walking around in my clothes?
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m bolting out of my chair and stomping down the stairs. I may only have a half-cocked plan based only on sexual frustration and my own imagination, but I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of tiptoeing around here, pretending like we both don’t want this. If she wants to flirt with fire, I’ll make sure she understands exactly how hot it burns.
“What’s up?” I call out as I walk into the kitchen, startling Scout so much that she jumps. Her bowl of cereal goes flying through the air. Sticky milk and Lucky Charms rain down around us, before the ceramic bowl shatters into a million pieces, the metal spoon clanging somewhere across the kitchen.
“Oh my God…” She places a hand over her chest and takes a deep breath. “You scared me.”
And the first thing I notice is that even though she was startled, she didn’t apologize for making the mess.
For some reason, I take that as a personal victory, which only fuels me to keep going, since I’m clearly doing something that’s getting through to her.
Not caring about the shards of glass or sticky milk covering the floor, I stalk toward her until I’m standing right between her legs and our faces are merely inches apart. “You’re wearing my clothes,” I say. It’s not a question, but it’s implied.
Confusion flashes over her face, and she studies me like she’s trying to make sense of this reaction. She’s still trying to calm down after I startled her, but the heat in her eyes tells me that’s not the only reason for her labored breathing.
“My pajamas are in the washing machine, and I didn’t figure you would mind if I borrowed an old t-shirt to sleep in.” Herwords trail off when my hands move to cup her thighs, and I watch her throat work as she nervously swallows a gulp.
I’m filled with a small ping of satisfaction when I notice her thighs press together. My gaze drops to the swell of her chest, where her nipples strain against her shirt. And when I hear her gasp, I can’t help the smirk that spreads across my face.
“You look good in my clothes… especially this.” I tug at the hem of the plain white t-shirt. “Makes it easier to see your nipples.”
“Luka…” Her voice comes out breathy, and I love hearing my name on her lips.
“Yes?” My fingers caress the outside of her thigh before moving around to her ass.
“What are you doing?” Her body goes completely still, but she doesn’t push me away.
My hands trail along her hips now, loving the way she looks at me, her eyelids starting to hood. I can see that she’s already on her way to that floaty, dream-like space, just waiting for me to fully take control so she can hand over the reins to her busy mind. “How was your day?”
Her eyelids flutter open, and she blinks before looking down at her hands. “Oh, uh, it was good. I was able to get most of the outline done thanks to you doing the prep work.” She looks up and meets my eyes. “Thanks again for that, by the way.”
My fingers dip beneath the hem of her t-shirt as I drag them along her lower back, my large palms nearly swallowing her narrow waist. Images of flipping her onto the bed and taking her exactly how I want flash through my mind, sending another surge of heat straight to my already rock-hard cock.
“You’re welcome. I just… wanted to take care of you.” My hand slides up, deliberately slow, brushing the bare space where her brashouldbe. She shudders beneath my touch, breath catching—and yet, she still doesn’t pull away. “So, didyou have an audience or anything? I can’t imagine you weren’t surrounded by nosy neighbors full of questions…” I hold my breath when I see her tense.
Then she shakes her head and shrugs. “Yeah, but I tuned them out, and after a while, they eventually got bored and left.”
“Uh huh… Anything else exciting happen?” I ask as my hands move further around her back, my fingertips barely grazing her ribcage and the slight swell of the side of her breast.
Her eyelids flutter closed as she sucks in a hiss before slowly shaking her head. “Nope, nothing out of the ordinary. It was a long day, but it felt good to work with my hands.”
My hands pause their perusal, and she opens her eyes as if trying to figure out why I stopped. I narrow my eyes, willing her to tell me the truth as the jealous animal inside of me threatens to rear its ugly head once more. “So, nothing out of the ordinary happened today?” I lift her chin to meet my eyes.
She swallows another gulp, but this time she doesn’t look away when she says, “No… Why? Did you hear something?”
Those big innocent eyes stare back at me, blinking, and I feel like all the air’s been ripped from my lungs. I always thought she was so easy to read, that she couldn’t lie for shit. But here she is looking at me with those fucking doe eyes, and she’s so convincing that I’m starting to doubt my own memory of what I saw today.
Holy shit… All this time… What else is she lying about?
