“I’m ready. Let’s go.”
I was delighted he found the need to adjust himself in his sweats. His erection would be a disadvantage and even though I didn’t care, it meant I still affected him. Considering he was the deadliest fighter I’d ever seen and had at least a hundred pounds on me, I’d take any advantage I could get.
“This isn’t going to work,” he muttered and stared at the ceiling.
“You chicken?” I taunted.
He was on me so fast I didn’t see him coming. Pinned underneath him on the floor, my inner wolf hooker was ecstatic. His hard body pressed against my softer one brought back memories that needed to stay buried. His scent mingled with mine and I closed my eyes and tried to think about the time my third grade teacher threw up in the lunchroom. Oh my hell, that didn’t even work. The need to taste him was overwhelming. I was not going to bang him. I was not going to bang him. I was not…
“Why did you leave?” he questioned as he pushed his knee between my legs. “Why?”
His lips were a breath away from mine. It would be so easy to trace them with my tongue. Maybe if I banged him just once it wouldn’t count. I didn’t have to tell Dwayne. No one needed to know. I’d just bang him and ignore him and then I would…
“Was there someone else?” he demanded.
“Are you high?” I hissed and tried to roll out from under him, but he had me right where he wanted me. Actually, if I was being honest with myself, which I wasn’t, I was exactly where I wanted to be. “You have some nerve asking me that, you assbuckle.”
“Assbuckle?” He chuckled and pressed his body closer to mine, making it difficult to form thought. “You treat me with no respect whatsoever. I’m your alpha.”
“I’m no longer part of the Pack,” I said. “You’re just some random guy now.”
His eyes were lit with amusement as he lowered his lips to mine. I jerked my head to the right, inadvertently giving him access to my neck. Of course he knew from experience that it was the most sensitive part of my body. Crapballs. His lips brushed the sensitive skin lightly and my body shuddered with delight in response.
“I could mark you, Essie. Bite you and make you mine forever,” he said softly.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I said in a breathy voice that sounded a little phone sex operator-ish.
“No,” he agreed. “When I mark you, it will be because you beg, but I will leave a little gift.”
His mouth was on my neck and he sucked. The sensation shot through me like a bullet and went straight to my girlie parts. Thoughts were cloudy, but there was a small part of my brain that knew this was a bad idea…why? Why was this bad? How could something that felt so amazing be wrong? OMG. I knew why this was bad.
With every ounce of strength I had, I raised my knee and introduced it to his man jewels. His grunt of pain was music to my ears as he rolled off of me and curled into a ball.
“I am not yours to play with anymore,” I huffed and got to my feet. He was still on the floor. I backed away in case he was bluffing. I knew I’d nailed him, but…
“You are going to explain very soon why your body says one thing and your knee says another,” he snapped and got on all fours. “I don’t buy that you don’t want me and god knows I want you.” He continued to breathe unevenly as he worked through the pain I’d inflicted.
I was fine with that. He’d caused me more pain than I’d ever known I could handle. I was glad to give some back.
“You are unbelievable. You either have amnesia or you’re the smarmiest buttwank I’ve ever known. I owe you nothing. I’ll be at your office tomorrow morning before I register at the modeling agency and then we can talk on a need only basis. Period.”
He was still on the floor and I actually felt a tiny bit bad. However, I was glad he was down and I left before he could come after me and get his payback. This job was sucking so bad and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse.
Chapter 5
“If I told you once I told you twenty times, Blood Sucker. If you hold your needles like that it’s gonna be lopsided,” Granny chastised Dwayne as they knitted up a storm.
“You’re just pissy because I’ve already knitted twelve scarves to your nine, Fido,” Dwayne huffed, knitting like the Devil himself was on his heels.
The living room was a disaster. Yarn, needles and patterns littered the overturned furniture. My BFF and Granny sat on the floor in the middle of the calamity sweating up a storm. Well, Granny sweated. Vampyres didn’t have pores. The scarves were hideous—all holey and messy and weird, but there was a ton of them. Completely unable to piece together any probable story of what had happened, I stood in silence and gaped.
“Close your mouth. You’ll catch flies,” Granny informed me, not even glancing up from the fuchsia thing she was creating.
“Did you bang him?” Dwayne asked while still completely absorbed in his puke green masterpiece. “I have money riding on it.”
“No, I didn’t bang him,” I yelled. “What in the hell happened here?” I hoped my volume and quick change of subject would throw them.
No such luck.
“I say the hickey on your neck proves my bang theory,” Dwayne said, held up the horrific scarf and dropped his needles in exhaustion. “I win, Furball.”
“Bull honkey,” Granny snapped. “My quality is far superior.”