Page 91 of No Rules

An idea germinates in me. A dirty idea which makes me furious. “Tell me it’s not what I think.” I ask.

He raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms.

I take a step towards him, brushing his chest. “Tell me that you have not come like a madman, with your dark look, just because Sanchez was with me?”

“Or what?” he growls between his lips.

“Or I’ll headbutt you, man.”

He shrugs his shoulders for any answer, not worried and not embarrassed by his caveman attitude.

“But what’s wrong with you? You don’t have to come like that, with your…macho attitude, just to keep me away from Sanchez,” I explode, shaking my index finger in front of his face.

“I just came to get you because we have to work on the Larey case,” says Tucker innocently.

I drop my head back, letting out a sarcastic, almost demonic laugh. I must look like a crazy person. Good, because he’s driving me crazy. “Right, and I’m the Queen of England. To others, Tucker. Let’s set the record straight, you and I. We’ve established the fact that we like each other. But you’re going to stop right here and now with your little…jealousy attack.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” he mumbles, but he can’t stick to his guns. “Actually, I was, damn it. I didn’t like him holding you like that, like you were longtime buddies, damn it.”

“You put me in a room with Sanchez in the middle of the night and ordered us to escape together. So let me tell you something: it’s obviously creating a bond. And if you’re not happy, you have no one to blame but yourself. Maybe you should have thought a little harder before you kidnapped me and put me with him in your fucking warehouse. Maybe some chicks would be happy that you’re possessive, but not me.”

My words hit the target. I know he’s pissed, too. He doesn’t seem to know what to say, just glaring at me. Maybe some people run away from his domineering and dangerous look, but I don’t. We both stand our ground, not wanting to give an inch to the other. It’s not because the attraction between us is eating me up inside and that the tension is almost unbearable that I’m going to let him act like he just did.

I finally sigh and add, “And then there’s nothing with Sanchez, so on top of that, you’re ridiculous.”

I understand jealousy to a certain extent, but that’s pushing it.

“I…damn it, stop making me out to be the bad guy. I didn’t like his reaction, period.”

“But there are no bad guys or good guys, Tucker. I’m just asking you to be reasonable because your behavior is pissing me off. I told you I didn’t like him. I told you that I like you. If you want that last sentence to be wrong, keep acting like you did in the last five minutes. I’m not Jane and you’re not Tarzan who has to beat his chest while reacting like an animal.”

He leans toward me, eyebrows furrowed, his different colored eyes locked in mine. I can see he wants to scream, to curse, but something is holding him back. His breath hits my face.

“I admit I was ready to jump on him if he hadn’t taken his damn fingers off you. Okay, you don’t want him. But I know the look of a man who wants to fuck a woman, and that’s the look he had when he stared at you.”

That’s bullshit. Hey, but wait…“You recognize that look because you’ve given it to a lot of girls who are ready to drop their panties, right?” I ask him, unable to stop myself.

He raises an eyebrow as he moves his head back. “Who seems jealous now?”

I open my mouth and suddenly close it again, before saying, “But not at all! Well, not really…”

I don’t have time to react, his lips press hard on mine, just for a second, then they move away just as quickly. His taste imposes itself on me, his print engraves itself on my mouth, as if he had needed this contact as much as me.

I stare at him, not really knowing what to do. Do I hit him? Or pull him to me so that he kisses me again?

I lean over him and bump into him while pressing my lips against his once more. This is good. It’s way too good. It shouldn’t be.

His tongue slips between my lips, searching for mine. It caresses my bottom lip, ready to conquer my mouth. His hand rests just above my buttocks, holding me close. But already I move away, short of breath.

I don’t want him to see that I’m torn, I don’t want him to notice my confusion. I should stay mad and not feel like rubbing myself against him while digging my nails into his skin.

“You’re impossible,” I mumble as I start to walk away to the outside tables so we can work.

He pisses me off, but I want him even more, as if this kiss has just warmed me up once again. Go find the logic in that.

“I know,” he breathes behind my back. I’m betting he has a stupid smile on his face.

“Move your ass.”

---