Page 38 of Tempting Venom
This motherfucker has loose screws. I’m trying to remember if he’s always been such an epic pain in the ass.
Granted, I’ve only met Osborn on the ice.
I’m pretty sure he was mostly…well, a little son of a bitch who stole the attention of the media effortlessly, but he was more like Kane. Silent and boring.
Now, he’s just…different.
I can’t put my finger on it, exactly, but something has shifted in the way he talks. He’s almost as antagonizing as I am.
“What are you thinking about? Talk to me.” He reaches a hand out again, and this time, I slam my free palm against his windpipe, choking him in an instant, stopping him short of making contact.
“What part of don’t touch me do you not understand, motherfucker?”
He puts both hands in the air. “It was innocent.”
“Nothing is fucking innocent about touching!”
My voice rises, and I breathe harshly, tightening my grip so hard, I can feel the tendons coil and flex in his neck.
“You want to kill me?” he strains, his face turning red. “Go ahead, baby. I’m sure you’ll make it look phenomenal.”
B-baby.
Did this asshole call mebaby?
I’m going to fucking kill him?—
“Love the look on your face, Armstrong.” His muscles pull tight, his words barely leaving his throat, but he’s still fucking yapping.
“Learn how to shut the fuck up!”
“Oh no. Losing your cool? Don’t like being cornered?”
“Keep dreaming.” I shove him away. “I don’t get cornered.”
“Everyone does…eventually.” He flicks his fingers over the red marks I left on his throat. My chest does something at that view. “Some just make it look good.”
I let a cruel little smile carve its way onto my lips. “You think I look good?”
“I think you know exactly what you look like. That’s the problem.”
“Then stop looking.”
“No. I don’t think I will.” He runs his gaze over me from my face to my chest to the skates, then back up again. The longer he stares, the brighter the burn settles in my stomach, tightening and squeezing as if I’m about to be sick.
His eyes settle on mine, calm but with something lurking just below the surface. “I’m liking the view a bit too much.”
“Unlike it, then.”
“Is that a word?”
“It is now.”
“If you say so.” He reaches out again. “How about we pick up where we left off? I’m happy to listen to your counteroffer.”
“What?”
“I made you an offer, inviting you to sit on my cock, remember?”
