“I’m not in the mood, Natalie.” Even as he says that, his hand curls around my waist to balance me. Or hold me.
“Well, I am. And I want you to pay attention to me.” The challenge in my voice is unmistakable.
“I’m always paying attention to you.” He frowns at me.
“Really? Then what was I saying?”
He doesn’t answer.
Without hesitation, I pull off my shirt, leaving myself in only my bra.
“Natalie.” There’s a warning edge to his voice.
I unclip my bra, pulling it off, the cool air brushing against my sensitive skin.
“Will you be able to hear me now?”
The anger fades from his eyes, replaced by amusement and something darker, hungrier. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Only if it’s working.” I lean forward, arms settling on his shoulders. I can smell the scotch on him, and when I brush my lips against his, I hear the sound of the glass clinking as if he’s setting it down.
And then he gets up, his mouth pressing against mine, fiercely, hungrily, his hands holding my thighs as he carries me to the bedroom.
He gently tosses me on the bed, and I reach up and loosen his tie, sliding it off and tossing it to the ground. My fingers make quick work of the top buttons of his shirt, just enough to expose the taut lines of his chest, the smooth skin that heats under my touch. I brush my lips over the hollow of his throat, soft and slow.
“Natalie—” His voice is a warning, a threat.
I love him like this. Caged. Coiled. On the edge of giving in.
“Lie back,” I whisper.
He does.
I climb onto his lap, straddling him with deliberate slowness, letting my bare chest brush against his shirt. He’s hard already, pressed tight against his pants, and when I grind against him, he growls, the sound vibrating through my body.
“Natalie...”
I kiss him, deep and dirty, biting at his lower lip. And when I pull back, I lean in to whisper against his ear. “What are you going to do?”
His hands are on me in an instant, gripping my hips, flipping us so I’m beneath him in one fluid motion. His mouth claims mine with bruising intensity. There’s no hesitation now.
“Since when did you get so bold?” he rasps.
I grin. “Since I like riling you up.”
That’s all it takes.
His smirk is devilish, holding a hint of promise that makes me shiver. “Where’s your box?”
I blink. “My what?”
“The box you keep, with all your little ‘friends.’”
I half sit up, alarmed. “Ethan?—”
But he’s already walking away from me and heading to my closet, bringing out a small wooden box. The lock on it is flimsy, and he breaks it with one tug.
My face feels hot as I sink back onto the bed. “Don’t you dare.”
