Page 24 of So I'll Know
He gives me a flat stare. “I’m rich, Jeremy, not Batman.”
“That’s a bummer. A vigilante alter ego would make up for some of your personality flaws.”
“Whatpersonality flaws?”
I press my lips together to hide a smile. “Too many to list, but if you must know a few, you’re bossy, you wear too much flannel, and your cologne is a lot.”
His jaw ticks. “You don’t like my flannel?”
“I mean, I know you’re going for, like, a rugged, uber-straight Pacific Northwest look, but wearing it every day is a little on the nose, don’t you think?” I smirk. “I bet you wear cargo shorts in the summer.”
I don’t really know why I’m teasing him so much. I think I just like the feral look that fills his eyes the more I run my mouth. He’s just so easy to rile up.
But before I can process what happens next, Marcus’s hand is around my throat—again—pushing me into the couch as he looms over me. The smell of pine and mint fills my nose as heexhales in frustration. “And here we are again. I thought I told you to stop being a brat.”
My water bottle crashes to the floor, making a horrible clang, and I wince because the old lady in the basement suite hates loud noises. My insides churn with anticipation, and I can feel the calluses on Marcus’s fingers scraping my skin. My dick thickens against my zipper, and I let out an involuntary whine. I’m kind of a small person, so I’m used to dominant guys; his aggression doesn’t faze me.
It’s hot.
“Did I hit a nerve?”
Marcus grits his teeth and his grip on my neck tightens. He drops his forehead to my throat like he’s fighting something.
I should ask him to let me go.
I should ask him to leave.
There are a lot of things Ishoulddo. Instead, I push my crotch against his and hear his needy whimper as his resolve starts to teeter.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MARCUS
Iknew coming here was a bad idea. But I put myself in this situation, and now I don’t know what the fuck to do.
I know what Iwantto do. But I can’t seem to wrap my head around it.
My large hand fits his delicate throat like he was made for me—the perfect necklace for his pretty face.
He’s pushing me on purpose.
I want to kiss him.
Hell, I want to fuck him.
This attraction I have for Jeremy is addictive and dangerous, and, quite frankly, terrifying.
As if he reads my mind, Jeremy presses against me again, harder this time, and my eyes roll back as pleasure zaps up my spine.
My hand tightens.
“Hey, boss,” he rasps. “Do they teach you how to perfect hand necklaces in business school?”
I squeeze my eyes closed and press my face against his neck,my lips grazing his pale flesh. “I swear to God, Jeremy, shut your pretty mouth.”
Jeremy’s hand still shakes as his fingers slide against my cheek, scraping my stubble. I whimper again.
Since when do I whimper?
