Page 98 of Revenge Puck

“And they don’t always share it with you.”

Well, shit.

Ding, ding, ding!

She hit the nail on the head. Idoknow what I want, I knowexactlyhow I’m going to get there, and I haven’t once shared the plan with her.

Instead of blinking at her, I hold her gaze. “Do you want me to tell you what my plan is?”

Her pretty doe eyes stare up at me. “Depends. Is your plan going to make me nervous?”

Yes.

My plan is going to fuck your brother up. He’s going to hate me for the rest of his life. It’s reckless. Borderline cruel. The first move has already been made, though—and I’ve never been the kind of man who retreats once I’ve chosen a direction.

But none of that reaches my face.

“My plan,” I murmur into her neck, letting my mouth brush the sensitive skin beneath her ear, “was to cook you dinner.”

Her neck tilts, giving me more access. “And then?”

“And then.” I breathe, keeping my hands braced on the counter, only touching her with my mouth, “I was going to kiss you again for dessert.”

Her pulse jumps beneath my lips. “You think so?”

I brush my nose against hers, teasing. “I think you like that I know what I’m doing.”

Her lips part.

“You like that I take control.”

A soft inhale of excitement.

“And you like that I’m telling you exactly what’s about to happen.”

Her hand tightens on me. “And what’s about to happen?”

I let the silence stretch long enough to make her ache for my reply.

“I’m going to finish plating this food,” I murmur against her mouth. “And then I’m going to sit right here next to you and be a good little Boy Scout and I’m going to behave.”

She blinks. “Behave?”

“Mm-hmm.”

The disappointment that flickers across her face is almost comical.

Oh, if only her brother could see her now: flushed, breathless, leaning into me like she’s forgotten her own name,creaming in her lace panties…He’d lose his motherfucking mind.

This is almost too easy.

SEVENTEEN

JULIETTE

There’s something unfair about a man who moves around his kitchen and knows exactly what he’s doing.

In fact, I get the sense that this is how it is with him in all ways. Everything feels intentional: from the seat I’m perched on, to the glasses he’s chosen, to the lighting.