Page 52 of That Girl is Trouble

Pushing up, I toss her onto the bed and step away, my dick hard and straining against my jeans, her chest bouncing up and down as she watches me with this heated look. A look that says, don’t stop. Touch me. Do it again.

I clear my throat. “You don’t leave this room tonight, you understand?”

“Where are you going? You’re not… staying?”

“No, I’m not.”

“I need…” She lets out an exasperated sigh, pulling her knees together.

“What do you need, Kat?”

“I need you to touch me.” She studies me, her perusal stopping at my groin.

There’s a fucking traitorous twitch between my legs at the attention. “That’s not gonna happen,” I say, my tone laced with threat. Because it could happen. I’m fucking thinking about it. Adrenaline pumping hard through my veins, the high of the fight still swirling inside me, and suddenly all I fucking need is to bury my goddamn dick inside her.

Seventeen, seventeen, seventeen.

She raises a brow and scoots forward on the bed. Maybe she’s as surprised as I am that once again, I’m saying no. “Why not?” she asks.

“Because bad girls don’t get to be touched.”

A smile curls up her face. “Oh yeah? I don’t really need you, Axe. I can do it all by myself.” She moves her hands up her thighs as she lies back against my pillow, pulling up her skirt, letting her knees drift apart to show me what’s underneath. Her panties are still pulled down almost to her knees. She spreads her legs wide, showing me that sweet pussy. And god, her pussy.

Walk away. That would be the right thing to do.

But I’m not all that good at doing the right thing.

I could do it. I won her. She’s mine. At least for the night. And I can guarantee she’s a lot better off with me than she would have been with Monroe’s men.

One night. Just one. Would that be so bad?

I tread closer and loom over her body, dropping my palms to her thighs and dragging them up. Just this once, just this one touch. Fuck, her skin is soft. She’s fucking perfect. Not something I can have, not something I should let myself have, but fucking perfect. My fingers are itching to feel more, to continue higher and dive into her tight little cunt and make her mine. Claim her like my win tonight gave me permission to do.

Seven months ago, I made a decision. To pick good. To be the better man. To walk away. And despite the hard bulge in my pants begging me to shut the fuck up and claim my winnings, that resolution saturates every thought.

With one hand still ghosting over the skin of her thigh, I rifle through my bedside table. I pull out a pair of handcuffs, then snatch her wrists and jerk them up towards the bedframe. She doesn’t even put up a fight as I lock her in place.

No, all she does is smile. She thinks I’m giving in. She thinks I’m gonna touch her. It’s what she came here for. Only reason she’d pull that shit tonight. Only reason she’d show up here after so long and put her hand up for a thing like that. She wanted me to notice.

Well, I fucking noticed.

In her mind, that means she’s won.

But I’m not all that good at losing.

The grin on her face dies the moment we lock eyes.

“Let me rephrase, Kitty. Bad girls don’t get to come. So you won’t be. Not by my hands or your own. Have a nice sleep.”

I flip the light switch, ignoring her when she calls for me. Screams for me. Begs for me not to leave her. She’s still shouting when I lock my front door on my way out.

When I get back down to the garage, an angry Triss is shooting daggers at me. “Where the hell is my sister?”

I smirk at the question, thinking about the woman chained to my bed. Panties down, skirt up, anger boiling over. And no one is fucking touching her tonight.

“Kat’s on a time-out.”

15

---