Page 120 of Bad Attitude
Holy. Fuck.
My nipples harden against the material, and the arousal that had faded comes back in full force. If I thought I was blushing before, it’s nothing to now. My face is aflame, and I can’t look at him.
“There’s just enough skin on offer to hint at how far down your blush goes,” he says as he limps another step. “Ireallywant to peel that coat off you and see what else I can make tinge red.”
That doesn’t help. Not one bit. It’s notmyfault I blush like this; it’s his. I never used to, not before Declan fucking Hale came into my life.
“I’m not in the mood anymore,” I say, hearing the hint of petulance in my voice and hating it. “Besides, you can hardly walk.”
“Stronger with every step,” he contradicts, and to be fair, he is making better progress. “Also, you punched me in the leg for no reason.” He glances at me. “Do you really think I’m going to let you walk out of here without a punishment?”
Punishment? Shit.
The worst part is he doesn’t even sound angry. This isn’t revenge, this is sadism. I’m sure that makes it so much worse.
“I had a reason,” I try, even though I didn’t really.What I had was a misunderstanding.
“Because I grabbed your arm?” Declan sounds almost amused, like he knows that was never why. “Good thing I didn’t reach for your ass.”
I don’t have an answer to that. If he had, he’d known I was naked beneath this damn coat—like he hasn’t already figured that out.
His door’s on the latch, saving him having to fish for keys, and maybe releasing me in the process. His fingers are still hooked inside the belt of my coat. I suppose I could let him have it and slip away, but then I’d have to hold the damn thing closed all the way home. It’s not designed to button up overlapping.
He tugs me forward, giving me a little push over the threshold before he releases me, his body blocking the exit. I’m in his apartment again, the potted plant he boughtbecause I might like itstill sitting there, waxy green leaves looking surprisingly healthy.
The door closes behind me, and the bolt slides across. Just like he promised.
“May I take your coat?” he asks, half civil, half teasing.
“Uh… I’m good.”
He smiles slowly. “I was hoping you’d say no,” he confides, limping toward me and away from the support of the wall. Hehasrecovered. My chances of escaping are diminishing fast, unless I want to hit him again.
I don’t. I’m not sure he’d let me anyway.
And my punishment would be worse.
I retreat before him, the arm of the couch catching the back of my thighs, and before I can slip away, his hands close on the lapels of my coat.
“I insist,” he murmurs. “After all, you didn’t come all this way dressed like this to keep iton, did you?”
I no longer have any idea why I came all this way dressed like this, or why I’m even here at all. All I know is that it was a really big mistake and the worst possible timing, finding him withcompany. Compounded with the stupidest reaction, punching his wound. I want to protest, but I can’t even think, held by those pale blue eyes and that aggravating, playful smirk.
His hands tug gently at my coat. “You’d be so much more comfortable without this.”
That, I very much doubt. “I don’t think this is a good—”
“We’re past that, Raven.” His voice is calm, not accepting my attempts to dissuade him. “Take it off.”
Sonot happening. It’s not just that I’m re-thinking thisfoolishidea, it’s that my courage has left me. I wanted to be the one in control, teasing him with my body after so long without him. Instead, all I feel now is guilt, warring with the shame of hurting him, overlaid with the presence of another woman in this apartment. All the things I sodon’twant to be thinking in this moment.
“Don’t make me ask a third time.” His hand leaves my lapel to close firmly around my throat, and I’m too stunned to stop him. Caught by the intensity of his gaze and the take-no-shit tone of his words.
My fingers are already reaching for my belt, pulling the loop through the buckle before I can stop them, like I’m responding to him without thought. But that’s not right. Walking in here, practically naked? Stripping for him? My idea, yes… but all my fears, all my insecurities are returning. Getting in my own head, not letting him in. He’s the one with the string of women in his past, and all the experience I don’t have. I’m the one with two failed relationships. I don’t even know why he wants me.
My hands still, unable to complete the simple task that really isn’t so simple. And I’ve failed in this, too.
“Very well,” he says, and spins me around, pulling me back against his chest, his hand still encircling my throat. “On reflection, I’d prefer to do it myself anyway.”
