Page 53 of Black Ties and White Lies

Her eyes pop open, looking down at her body. She has to know how fucking sexy she looks right now. “This”—she begins, running her hands through her hair as the water flows through the long strands—“is a little something you bought me.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, turning so my back faces her. Now that she isn’t shivering, my mind is becoming more clear. The primal need for her is returning. I’m no longer thinking about the cold from earlier, and instead I’m thinking about all the delectable ways I could warm her up.

My fingers angrily work at the buttons of my suit jacket. The custom suit had cost thousands of dollars and is probably ruined by the snow and mud it is now covered in. It doesn’t matter. Right now what matters is getting the hell away from her and the tiny scraps of clothing that are covering the parts of hers I’ve spent far too long fantasizing about.

The shower door crashes against the wall loudly as I swing it open. I’m lucky it didn’t break. It doesn’t stop me from slamming it shut behind me in frustration. I run out of the bathroom as fast my legs will take me, needing space from her.

Fuck this business trip.

Fuck the snow storm.

And fuck how badly I want to bury myself inside her and fuck all the anger right out of her.

I rip my tie from my body, throwing it to my feet. I’m angrily shoving my pants down my thighs when I hear her voice from right behind me.

She must be a fucking ninja, because I didn’t hear her turn off the shower or leave the bathroom. I must’ve been too busy lingering in the anger of being stuck in this situation to hear her at all.

“Why are you so mad at me?” she asks from my back.

I work at the buttons of my shirt, not daring to face her. I don’t know if she’s covered her body more or not, but my restraint is paper thin right now. If I see her in that set of lingerie again, I might just lose control and rip it from that perfect fucking body of hers.

“I’m done talking.” My words are short, leaving nothing up for interruption. I truly don’t want to talk right now. I’d much rather put our mouths to better use, but I can’t exactly say that out loud. Or I could, but it wouldn’t do anything but prove to me that deep down she wants me, but she won’t let it happen.

“Well, I’m not,” she snaps, looping around me to stand in front of me. At least she’s wrapped a white towel around her body, shielding her flawless body from my view.

I catch her looking me up and down. I’d intended to be fully dressed in the god-awful pajama set I’d found in the gift shop by the time she stepped out of the shower, but yet again, she couldn’t just fucking listen to me.

My shirt hangs open, giving her a view of the muscles I work hard to maintain. Her eyes catch on my navy blue boxers, further fueling the already hard on I had by seeing her in lingerie.

“Do you ever do as you're told?” I sigh, putting my hands on my hips.

She hugs the fabric of her towel closer to her. “Sometimes. Tell me why you’re mad at me, and I may actually listen to you.”

"You don’t want to know why I’m mad.”

“You don’t get to tell me what I do or don’t want.”

“If you ask me again, I’m going to tell you, and I promise you don’t really want to know.”

“Tell me why you’re mad.”

There’s no hint of reservation in her eyes, only pure defiance. There are so many things I’d do to her to wipe the smug look from her face.

I pull my arms from the sleeves of the dress shirt, throwing it onto the bed next to us. “I’m livid because I’m stuck in this fucking hotel room with you, and the only thing on my mind is how bad I want you. I’m fucking desperate to kiss you, taste you, fuck you. I want to spend the entire night finding new ways to keep that perfect body of yours warm. You want to know why I’m pissed? Because I know deep down you want all of those things too, you’re just too stubborn—too god damn afraid—to let it happen. And for once in my god damn life, I want something—need something—I can’t fucking have. So there you have it. I’m livid because I want to fucking make you mine, and you won’t let me because my brother was a dick to you and you’re not over it.”

She stares at me wide-eyed, blinking over and over. My chest heaves up and down. My throat is hoarse from shouting the words at her, needing to get them off my chest. There’s no going back now. She knows how I feel. I’ve told her how bad I fucking need her, and now I need to prepare myself for whatever excuse she’s going to give why we can’t just give in.

Except she doesn’t do it. In fact, it isn’t what she says…it’s what she does.

The towel drops to the ground.

The lingerie is long gone.

Margo is naked in front of me. Her fingers play with her nipples when she looks me in the eye. “Is this the point where I beg?”

I’m completelyand utterly fucked. Metaphorically.

Physically? I hope to be by the end of all this.

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