Page 91 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
I couldn’t shake Ben’s texts.
Hate-fuck him out of your system.
Could I?
Did it work like that?
A little Vitamin D, and I was suddenly cured of my Nash fixation?
No. Even I didn’t buy my bullshit. It felt like an excuse to scratch the permanent itch that was Nash Prescott.
“See, the thing I can’t quite shake is why you’re even working here,” Nash drawled, blocking the elevator doors from closing with his body. “You’re filthy rich. You were born with a spoon in your mouth, and it fed you opportunity after opportunity. It’s almost as if you have an ulterior motive for working here. Maybe someone asked you to?” He cocked a brow, crossing his arms. “Maybe you’re working here to get close to me?”
Confusion tipped my brows together. I had no idea what he was talking about, but he was high if he thought I would admit how far I had fallen.
Needing a job didn’t shame me.
Needing one from Nash?
That was a knife in my gut.
One I couldn’t pull out.
It kept twisting, the wound festering with each passing second.
I stepped closer to him, forcing him out of the elevator’s trajectory with my movements. The doors began to shut behind me, but I ignored them. “Is this the part of the day where we make up conspiracy theories and accuse each other of ridiculous things? Fun. I would grade yours a D at best.”
My sweats slipped lower, showcasing the top of my panties. I didn’t move to lift them.
He took a step toward me, but I met him head-on. We stood foot-to-foot. Nose-to-chest. I could feel his breaths on me. Could smell him all over me.
It was like that night in the shower, except no glass separated us.
And I wasn’t naked.
But fuck, I wanted to be.
Do it, Emery.
Hate-fuck him out of your system.
He’s a poison, and the only cure is to suck him out.
“Don't stare at me like that.” Nash’s voice caressed my face and lured me in like a fishing reel.
“Like what?” Somehow, we had reached an unspoken agreement to speak softer, cocooned in the privacy of this unfinished floor.
No doors on the frames.
No paint on the walls.
No furniture on the carpet.
No witnesses.
“You’re staring at me like you want to get fucked. It’s not happening.” He edged closer, and it was just enough to make contact. My chest pressed against hard abs. Despite my height, he towered over me. “In case you haven’t noticed, Jailbait, I don’t like you. I don’t even hate you. You are as insignificant as your teenybopper friends.”
“Hide behind your words, Nash. Use them to feel good about denying you want me, but this is happening.” I inched closer, a tiger tracking her next meal. “You look like you want to touch me, Nash. Do it,” I dared him. Let me ruin your reputation. “Take off that leash.”
