Page 117 of Intense
And then he’s up. Closing the space between us in seconds, backing me into the wall with the kind of energy that makes me forget why I ever thought this was a good idea.
Fuck, he’s dangerous when he’s like this.
“You want this marriage to be over so bad…” His voice dips as he leans in, the heat of him invading my skin. “…get on your knees and fucking beg me properly.”
A sharp gasp slips out of me, and his grin turns smug. He knows exactly which buttons to press. I swear to God, I’m justa game to him. A puzzle of triggers and reactions, and he’s memorized the sequence.
And maybe, just maybe, I’m starting to like the way he plays.
Especially when he presses that button. The one deep inside me that only responds to the curl of his fingers.
Do I really want to walk away from that? Without even getting the full Dr. Quinn experience?
I shake my head, trying to banish the heat building inside me. No. Think with your brain, not your pussy, Stephanie.
This is wrong. I shouldn’t be married to my boss. Sleeping with him was one thing; being his wife is something else entirely.
He’s not built for relationships. And neither am I.
“You don’t want me as your wife, Finn,” I say coolly, shifting tactics.
He pulls back just enough to let me breathe. But those sharp eyes stay locked on mine.
“Why not? Give me three constructive arguments, and I’ll consider it.”
“I’m high maintenance. You won’t be able to keep up.”
He scoffs, already loading his counterattack.
“I’m rich, remember? You’ve called me fuckin’ rich boy for years. Next?”
Shit. Okay.
“We work together.”
“I could fire you. But HR already approved our marriage. Next?”
“Jesus Christ, you’re impossible. Fine. Last one. I don’t fucking like you, Dr. Quinn.”
That smug smile spreads across his face again.
“That’s a damn lie.”
He grips my jaw, forcing me to hold his gaze.
“I tried to slash your tires. I just handed you the papers. I even begged for you to leave me. How does that scream that I like you?”
He’s still smiling. Like I’m the most beautiful contradiction he’s ever seen. And maybe I am.
“You just also came all over my hand and had me bend you over what you thought was my car. Your point is what exactly?”
I chew the inside of my lip, searching for a comeback, but?—
“Do you believe hate and love can’t walk the same line, temptress?”
My mouth opens… and closes again.
Fuck. I hate when he has a point.
