I almost feel sorry for her. By the time she leaves South Carolina, she’ll have wished she’d opted for the jail sentence. Legal suffering and revenge suffering are two different beasts. One is designed to punish and redeem, while the other is crafted for pain anddestruction.
Too bad her pride won’t allow her to shut her mouth long enough to figure thatout.
“Well, I don’t know,” she says, walking toward me. “I’ve only been here two days, so I’m not really in tune with the delivery schedules. Maybe if you were around to run your own business you’d know thesethings.”
That does it. The condescending and aristocratic bullshit attitude I’ve worked my whole life to avoid is thrown right in my face by the one person who embodies it. It takes all my restraint not to wrap my fingers around her neck and squeeze—just to hear her beg me to stop. Sick? Maybe, but the desire has remained ever since the day they buried my sister and I curled my hands around the metal bars, pretending they were her paleskin.
I wanted to hear her beg then. I want to hear itnow.
But with a room full of underage boys watching me intently, I step back and snap my jaw shut. Instead, I curse and backhand a half-empty Coke can sitting on the edge of the desk, sending it careening to thefloor.
Catching Shiloh’s widened eyes, I ignore the blood pumping straight to my cock and turn to walk out when she grabs my arm and swings me around with surprising strength. The gray in her eyes darkens as she holds my stare. Her lips are pursed, and although I know she’s ready to spit fire, they still look kissable.Fuckable.
Christ, the woman could stop traffic and kill a mandead.
I pull away from her hold. “Problem?”
“Are you going to clean that up?” She drags her eyes along the sticky mess left by thesoda.
“Nope.”
“You’re the one who made the mess, notme.”
I laugh. “You’re the one with the broom in your hand, notme.”
Flicking her gaze upward, she jabs her finger into my chest. “I just spent an hour cleaning this place. You did this on purpose, asshole! Clean it yourself. You don’t ownme.”
My chest burns and fire licks along every seam of restraint I have left. I’ve kept myself in check up until now, but the minute she shoves the broom to the ground by my feet and turns to stomp away, something inside of mesnaps.
Resentment gets the best of me, and I draw my foot back, kicking the can halfway across the room. As Shiloh is preoccupied with the stupid piece of metal skidding across the floor, I slip my hand up the side of her neck and curl my fingers around it. She lets out a startled gasp, and refocuses her attention on my face—just where I want it. There’s a surprising mix of heat and loathing in her eyes as I slam my lips against hers, and relish init.
Right before I fuck her worldup.
Stunned at first, she quickly composes herself and struggles against me. However, her mouth welcomes my invasion as her fists fight to resist against it. I deepen the kiss, meaning only to prove a point, but unable to stopmyself.
My hand tightens in her hair, craving more. Needing more. Her lips are unlike anything I’ve experienced in years—a mix of fireworks and damnation punching me in the chest. We kiss harder, her defenses crumbling as her lips part wider, her tongue meeting mine stroke forstroke.
Then I hear the murmurs and low laughter. I remember where I am and who’swatching.
Goddamnit.
She’s tipped the scales in herfavor.
Again.
Lust has overshadowed myhate.
Again.
“Starshine,” I whisper, tearing my mouth away and dropping my lips next to her ear. Our cheeks brush together like silk againstsandpaper.
It takes her a few moments to find her voice. “Yes?”
I want her unbalanced so I wait a few beats before sliding my thumb around to the soft indention at the base of herthroat.
“While you’re inside these walls, I actually do own you. You’ll do what I want, when I want, how I want, and anywhere I want. Are weclear?”
“Cary…”
