Page 8 of Eff Marry Kill

"You…" I stop, gaping at him. I probably shouldn't murder him in my brother's kitchen, right? I mean, the cleanup alone would be a nightmare. "I am not calling in because you have some diabolical plan to see my ass. I'll just run by the apartment and grab them."

"No can do. The movers are already there."

Breathe, Nova. You have to breathe.

"The…what?"

"The movers." He grins at me. "They should have all of your shit out within the hour."

You know what? On second thought, maybe the cleanup will be worth it. I mean, it's not like Nathan ever cooks in his kitchen. He probably won't even notice a little bloodshed. We can probably paint over the stains.

"You hired movers," I say, enunciating each word.

"Yes."

"You hired movers to move me out of my apartment."

"Again, yes."

I stalk forward, snatching my skirt from around his shoulders. Before he can move, I lift on my toes, trying to press it to his face to smother him with it.

His body shakes with laughter as he hauls me into his arms, somehow containing me and pulling the skirt away at the same time. "Starlight." His deep laugh touches places it shouldn't. "If you're going to smother me with your skirt, I'd prefer you do it while you're wearing it, preferably with your thighs wrapped around my head. A motherfucker could die happy then."

This right here is precisely why he and I will never work. He's so…so…ugh! He just does whatever he wants to do, says whatever he wants to say, and is never serious about anything. And he gets away with it because he's a famous athlete. People fall all over themselves for five minutes of his time.

I think he expects me to fall at his feet, too.

And dammit all, I think he knows I fell a long time ago. He torments me because he knows I fell. He isn't serious about me. He simply uses my own feelings against me because it amuses him to watch me squirm.

"Let me go," I growl.

"Nah," he murmurs, backing me up against the wall. "Not until you kiss me."

"I'm not kissing you." I hate how uncertain I sound.

"You are," he breathes, running one hand up my side. "You dreamed about it last night, didn't you?"

My heart skips a beat, anxiety churning through me. Did I moan his name in my sleep? I will literally die if he heard me calling out for him. "What? No," I say anyway, prepared to deny reality like it's my damn job.

"Liar." His lips skim the side of my face. "You want to know what I dreamed about?"

"Dying in my brother's kitchen?" I guess, my tone acerbic.

"You." His teeth close around the shell of my ear in a stinging bite I feel thrumming against my clit. "You were in bed with me, Starlight, with that perfect body wrapped around mine." He makes this sound—half groan, half growl—that sends lava into my veins. "Every time I touched you, you sobbed my name. Every time you came, you whimpered for more."

I'm not falling for this.

I am not falling for—

"Goddamn, baby girl," he growls, palming my ass. "I woke up so fucking hard for you." He nips the side of my throat. "Want to know a secret?"

"W-what?"

Crap. I didn't mean to say that.

"It's nothing new," he whispers. "Four hundred eighty-three days in a row, I've woken up hard for you. I've dreamed about you for just as long." He buries his face in my throat, breathing me in. "I've prayed for you every night, even considered selling my fucking soul for you."

Jesus.