Page 48 of Untying the Knot
“What?” I shout. “How the hell did you figure that?”
“Easily, I’m the one who regularly maintains them. I’m the one who takes them to get serviced, makes the payments on them, and ensures they’re charged. Therefore, I will be acquiring both.”
“Why the hell do you need two cars?”
“I don’t. But it’s the principle of the thing. I don’t need all the food in the fridge, but hey, that’s what happens when you piss me off and use sex as a weapon. It comes back to haunt you tenfold. Now, shall we discuss clothing?”
“You’re not fucking taking my clothes.”
“God, no.” She shakes her head. “What on earth would I do with your clothes?”
“I don’t know, Myla. What will you do with two cars?”
“Treat them as if they’re my children and take them out every day so their tires don’t get stiff, obviously.” I roll my eyes. That sass of hers is on full display now that she’s no longer nervous and on a roll. “Now, clothes. I’ve confiscated the latest batch of laundry that I just washed and folded for you. Since I put the time in to take care of them, they belong to me, but if you would like them back—which you might since your lucky running shorts are in there—you can repay me for my dirty work.”
“Fine, how much? I have cash.”
“I don’t want your money.”
Jesus Christ. “Then what do you want, Myla?”
“It’s simple. You made it quite clear last night that there is one thing I want from you, one thing I can’t seem to forget when it comes to you—and that’s sex.”
“You want me to fuck you for my clothes?”
“No, I don’t want your dick—”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Just your mouth,” she continues with returned hesitation. “If you want your clothes, then you make me come on your tongue.” She glances away, clutching her paper tightly. “Until then, your clothes are mine, as well as the receipts to pick up your dry cleaning.”
“What makes you think you’re doing me a disservice here?”
Her long lashes lift as she says, “You don’t think I know how hard and horny you get every time you go down on me? I know you. I know the way your body reacts when your tongue is buried between my legs. And I know the only way you’ll be fully satisfied after making me come all over your mouth is if you flip me onto my stomach, pull my ass into the air, and fuck me bare.”
I gulp because fuck, she’s right.
“And I don’t want your dick. I don’t want anything to do with it. Just your mouth. So you can either get your clothes by giving me what I want, only to suffer from a serious case of blue balls, or you can start perusing your closet for a new pair of running shorts.”
Jaw clenched, I grip the counter and say, “Is this satisfying to you? These rules? These restrictions?”
“Doesn’t matter what they mean to me. It just matters that they’re set in stone.” Once again, she avoids eye contact with me, and it gives me pause.
She’s in defense mode, and the only time she’s like this is when she’s so hurt she hides behind sarcasm. Scorn.
And fuck do I wish I knewhowI hurt her.
Is she protecting her heart? From me?
Is she trying to erect a wall between us because I’ve hurt her so badly?
Or is she doing this out of pure spite? I can’t tell.
Either way, I can’t help the irritation pumping through me. She’s making it impossible for me to reach her.
“Fine.” I push off the counter and head toward the hallway to get ready for my day.
“Just a heads-up,” she calls out. “I know you have a meeting today, but all of your suits are at the cleaners.” I glance down at her as I’m halfway up the stairs.
