“Am I jealous of whores? God, no.”
“Yeah, you are. I think you’re jealous that I fucked them.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Sometimes it was two or three at the same time —”
My palm hauls back as far as it can in the tight space between the bed and his body to slap the shit out of his face, even harder than the previous time.
Tristan grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head to stop me from hitting him again. He easily dominates me, making me so freaking wet despite being so damn angry at him.
“I haven’t fucked any of them since I started watching you.”
“Bullshit! Theylivein your apartment!”
“And I was barely here longer than to take a shower and change most days because I was sleeping in my truck outside your apartment or the courthouse or watching you flirt with those assholes at lunch.”
“What? I wasn’t flirting with anyone. And all those men are rich donors.”
“I know that, but I don’t like it.”
“Tough shit.”
“Hypocrite.”
With an indignant huff, I tell him, “I never slept with those men!”
“They want to fuck you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he says. “Because every straight, single man who sees you wants you. How could they not? You’re fucking gorgeous.”
A tiny bit of my anger disintegrates thanks to his compliment. “And every whore who comes near you wants you and a free place to live apparently.”
“Yes, I slept with the women downstairs, but I never jerked off to them.”
“What does that have to do with any-fucking-thing?”
“Because it was just sex, a release, and then it was over and done. Physically and mentally.” He wets his lips with his tongue, drawing my attention. “Do you know how often I jerk off thinking about you?”
I shake my head and try to swallow down my stupid arousal.
“Constantly. Even before I ever touched you.”
“Now you’re just making shit up.”
“I would watch you in yoga class, bending over in those white pants, which should be illegal by the way, and I couldn’t even wait to get home to take my cock out.”
“Oh my God. You watched me at yoga?”
He nods. “And came so hard in my truck. Your ass in those pants has haunted me for weeks. I couldn’t tell you how many times I imagined bending you over, jerking them down, and shoving deep inside your tight cunt. I knew before I felt you that you would be so damn snug because you’re so fucking uptight.”
I am always uptight, except when I’m with this man. This foul-mouthed, demanding criminal. There’s something about him that weakens me, making me lose all my inhibitions.
Like usual with him, there’s a shift inside of me, cooling the anger and warming up feelings much more dangerous. There’s more to the mobster than meets the eye.
“You put pajamas on me.”
