Page 201 of Bridesmaid Undercover
I want to woo her. I want to show her how much I want her, how much I need her in my life, and I’m not sure this soft, loving approach is going to work, not when she’s matching my energy with a frosty bite.
I think…fuck, I think I’m going to have to step it up to the same energy.
I might have to fight ice with fire. I guess there’s only one way to find out.
I set the cronuts down on her desk. “I brought you something, so the kind thing to do would be to accept it.”
She sits back in her chair and picks up a pen before meeting my eyes. “Are you really going to lecture me about being kind?”
The bite in my voice must have caught her attention. Hell, I think I might be onto something. Not the approach I’d usually want to take, but at least she’s looking at me, engaging with me.
“When you need it, yeah.”
“What I need is for you to leave.”
Not going to happen. I see the challenge in her eyes. If she wants to play games, I’ll play, because I will do just about anything to get her to talk to me, even if it’s like this.
So, despite her, I take a seat in front of her desk and get comfortable.
Her eyes narrow, and it’s almost comical to see her like this.
Putting up a front.
Slipping out of her professional self and showing me her true colors. I fucking like it, even though I shouldn’t.
That sass and spice is on full display and only makes me want her that much more.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks.
“Getting comfortable. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Being a nuisance,” she says. “I told you to leave.”
“Yeah, and last time I listened to you, I ended up not hearing from you, so I think I’m good with just sitting here until you want to talk.”
“Fine, then I’ll leave,” she says as she stands from her chair and walks around her desk, attempting to move past me.
Big mistake on her part.
Before I decided to dip into this battle of wills, I would have let her walk by and just followed her, but the approach has changed. The heat has turned up, and there is only one way to win this…
Before she can retreat, I grab her wrist, stopping her in place and forcing her to pause.
With a turn of my head, I drag my eyes up her arm to her face. She’s looking down at me as if she can’t believe I’m holding her back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Taking a chance, I rub my thumb over her wrist, wanting to warm her frosty exterior. And from the way her lips part, I can’t tell if she’s insulted that I’d even consider touching her or if it’s the right move.
“Sit down, Everly,” I say sternly.
“Do really think that tone is going to work on me?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Let’s see.” And then I tug on her hand, throwing her off balance, and guiding her onto my lap.
“What the hell, Hardy,” she says in shock. She whips her head around, her hair brushing up against me right before her eyes fall to mine. “What are you doing?”
“I told you to sit down, and when you don’t listen, I have to take matters into my own hands.”
“Jesus, you don’t own me.”
