Page 91 of Bad Intentions

That was better. He was finally listening. I couldn’t wait to get to know Jimmy. Right after I had fun with Derek.

49

MALLORY

I stepped into Derek’s house without knocking, since the door was unlocked.

“Who were you talking to?” he hissed at me from the armchair, his voice edgy. Just like I needed him. It felt good to be in charge.

He looked handsome in a white T-shirt, jeans, barefoot, his knees wide apart as he studied me, not bothering to get up.

I walked up slowly, studying him. The way men usually study women. The way alpha-women study men in movies. I’d practiced so many times in the mirror. You have to. A guy on TV said that confidence is a matter of practice. You might be nervous or even petrified, but you can train yourself to stay calm on the surface.

“First things first, shirt off.” I tilted my chin at him.

A surprised laugh escaped him. Then, in a matter of seconds, he was out of the armchair, his hand around my throat, his body pushing me backward until the back of my knees hit the couch and I fell backward onto it, Derek’s body hovering over mine.

“Don’t play games with me, Mal,” he hissed, glaring at me, his hand still around my throat but not forceful.

I’d been intimidated before. Nothing new here. But I’d already decided that I wouldn’t be a doormat. Not with him.

Breathing hard, I smiled, though it took all my willpower not to push him away.

“I said, take your clothes off first,” I ordered as calmly as I could. “Then we talk. After I get what I want.”

And then came the change in his face, the amusement he couldn’t hide.

“Where did you come from?” he muttered. But his hand was off my neck in a second. In another, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He nudged my legs apart, took a step between them, and undid his jeans.

“You are pushing my buttons, Mal,” he said, pulling his jeans down, already hard, making a show of himself and his anger. “You are playing with fire. You know that, right?” He pushed my skirt up and yanked my panties down. “And you are making me very, very, very angry,” he panted, showing me exactly what he meant, his words losing the spite because, well, Men are suckers for sex. They turn into impatient puppies when you promise them a piece of action. Al’s words. She would know. She’d screwed dozens of them.

I didn’t like angry Derek, but I did revel in seeing him needy for something, even if it was information.

When we were done, I watched Derek dress. “I’m thirsty,” I said.

His lips parted to say something, probably, “Help yourself.” But he didn’t. Obediently, he walked to the fridge. “What do you want?”

“Coke. In a glass. With ice.” I pursed my lips, though I wanted to giggle.

He came back and handed it to me, then slumped in the armchair across the coffee table from the couch where I sat, fixing myself.

“Okay. So what’s the story?” His eyes trained on me, he ruffled his hair, so handsome that I wanted to tease him more.

“This woman showed up at the bar today,” I said and told him exactly what happened. Omitting only that I knew where she was staying and her phone number.

“She is a nutcase,” Derek said when I finished.

“So she isn’t your wife?”

“No. Domestic partner. But we haven’t been together in a year. She won’t let go, though.”

“Why is she looking for you? Child support?”

His jaw clenched as he narrowed his eyes on me. No, I hadn’t told him that the woman showed me the picture of his happy family.

“Like I said, she is a nutjob,” he repeated. “That’s why she followed me here.”

“And how would she know where to look for you?”