Page 111 of Disobedient Pawn

“Let me guess, I’m an asshole,” he mocked in a higher voice that I presumed was supposed to be me but sounded more like Vicky. “I’m joking, kinda. I mean, what’s the worst you could do? Run to your daddy? Oh, that’s right, you two aren’t speaking. Shucks, sorry, that’s rough.” The sarcasm was so thick it could have been cut with a knife, and the comment hurt, just like I was sure it was meant to.

“I didn’t realize you got your rocks off by picking on others…like your father. I guess I was wrong.” The smirk fell from his face. “Oops, was that hurtful? Oh, I’m sorry.”

I glared at him, my pulse thrumming faster with each beat of my racing heart.

His chest touched my back.

“You think you’re a badass, don’t you, Princess?”

“I don’t like being tormented for no reason, and I’d also love to have my journal back.”

I watched him, feeling like a wild animal in a trap, as he pursed his lips and softly blew cool air on my neck. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop the shiver that raced down my spine.

“Who says I have it?” He said, but the smirk in the glass told me he did.

“Do you want me to hit you,” I asked, my teeth clenched as much as my stomach.

“I’d pay money to see you try, and then what you’d do when I punished you for it. I’d be far more creative this time around,” Nash said, and I didn’t doubt he would follow through.

I shook my head at his reflection. Continuing the argument seemed pointless, we’d just go round and round with the same threats.

“What do you want, Nash?”

“So quick to get rid of me, but I know better. You can keep your feelings for Myles, I don’t care, but I know you want to fuck me.”

“Gee thanks for letting me keep my own emotions, how fucking kind of you. And, you keep dreaming. Just don’t when you’re with Vicky, that’s disgusting.” I made a gagging sound.

Nash chuckled, and I squeezed my fists tight to keep from moving away from him and the charge in the air that seemed to follow.

“I did think you might want this back.”

He wrapped his arm around my body, his hand gripping my journal. This felt far more intimate than him simply handing over a book, but I was too stubborn to move away. That felt like defeat when it came to Nash

I gripped my journal, but he didn’t let go. There was no way he took it and didn’t read it, but if I showed that it bothered me, it would only give him another win. That was something I refused to do.

“Did you have fun reading it?”

“Meh, you put me to sleep with all your poor me, life is terrible, and art talk. I mean, really, could you get any more boring?”

“Give me my fucking journal, Nash.”

I was getting pissed, and it was harder to hide.

“But you have such a nasty tongue I’m not sure if I should give it to you,” he mocked, gently tugging against my hold. He was messing with me, and the temptation to punch him in his sexy face intensified.

“And here I thought you liked a nasty tongue. I mean, you are with Vicky after all,” I said, my lip curling up as I glared at him.

And just like all the other times that I said her name, she appeared like magic. I really needed to start saying Jason Mamoa instead.

“What’s going on here,” Vicky said, her voice barely containing her rage.

If her sudden appearance bothered Nash, he didn’t let it show. He also didn’t move away, which felt awkward as hell.

“Just giving Ren her biology notes that she was so kind to lend me.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, how very kind of me. Maybe next time, ask to borrow them,” I said, tugging on my journal.