Page 20 of Wild Obsession
She wrenched her arm free of my grasp and stomped past me toward the kitchen, one hand pressed to the side of her ass, the other slicing through the air while a stream of French profanity poured out of her.
“In English.”I followed her, my heavy steps echoing against the hardwood.
Now she was silent, yanking a tray of ice from the freezer and cracking it against the counter in a move that was downright vicious.
“Chantel.Answer me.”
“I’m fine.”She scowled and dumped the ice onto a clean dishtowel.
“Good.Now explain why they’re in Montreal and you’re here.”
“Merde.We switched houses for the weekend.”She wrapped the corners of the towel into a knot before peeking up at me, guilt flooding her beautiful gaze.“It was last minute, and it was my idea.”
“Your idea?”My shallow breath stuttered.
This wasn’t her fault.It was mine.
I was the one who’d handed Jamie all the power.She’d taken Hunter to Montreal because she could.I’d done this to myself.
And yet, I wanted to punish Chantel for it anyway.Bend her over the counter, flip up that little excuse for a dress, and pound into her until she couldn’t walk straight.
“My boss forced me to take vacation.”She pressed the makeshift ice pack to her ass, oblivious to the filth running through my mind.
“Until I came along to ruin it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say ruined, exactly.”Even if the situation wasn’t her fault, there was nothing innocent about the look she gave me.
She knew exactly what she was doing to me right now.
“How sore is your ass?”My gaze travelled from the dip of her waist to the curve of her backside.
“My ass?”
“Yes, Chantel.Your ass.How sore is it?”
A light, intoxicating blush crept up her neck.“Not that sore.”
“Good.”Not that it would’ve stopped me.My conscience had already packed up and left.“Get it over here.”
“Why?”
“No questions.Come here.”
She set the ice on the counter and glided toward me, the short hem of her dress exaggerating the long, lean line of her legs, each step a goddamn seduction.When she stopped in front of me, her gaze was a quiet dare.
Her hazel eyes glittered.A light dusting of freckles crossed the bridge of her nose.The sharp lines of her collarbones were begging to be bitten.And her nipples were still tight and fucking inviting under her slip of a dress.
She wasn’t pretty.Wasn’t beautiful.She was fucking devastating.And she was smarter than me, which only made my craving for her worse.
Chantel was a challenge.The best kind of game.And I had no interest in resisting.
“Show me,” I said through gritted teeth, need clawing at my insides as I motioned for her to turn.
She raised an eyebrow.Then, head high and gaze defiant, she mumbled in French and rotated.Grudging or not, it was compliance, and it set my blood on fire.
This view of her was no less impressive.From the gleam of her dark hair, the elegant line of her spine, the flare of her hips, all the way down to the slender arches of her feet.I could have stared at her for days.
A tremor rolled through her, but I made her wait.Watched the rise and fall of her shoulders, the twitch of her fingers as she tried to anticipate what came next.
