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I cannot lock her up either.
Those thoughts jam-pack my head like a chant. As much as I pride myself in being a fucking ice cube when faced with pressure, one woman is able to drill a hole in my frozen exterior, hollow out my black soul, and start a fucking riot.
“Eli!” she whispers-yells, then smiles at the cameras flashing in our direction.
Her dainty hands wrap around my neck, and even though she offers the world her blinding smiles, she pulls on the hairs at my nape, nails digging into the skin with intention to cause pain.
I grind my teeth and she grins. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does that hurt,hon?”
“No more than how you’ll pay for this stunt,darling.”
Her eyes flare up in a bright, intoxicating, and absolutely ravenous blue. My favorite color until further notice.
“Put me down. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Not more than your attempts to embarrass yourself, Mrs. King.”
I contemplate dumping her in the passenger seat like a sack of potatoes but think better of it and deposit her caringly, like the gentleman I’m not.
But then again, the confusion in her eyes at the mixed signals is worth it.
So I slide into the driver's seat and lean over. Ava pushes back against the leather, the squeak filling the car and drowning out the outside world.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, her chest rising and falling in quick succession, her full breasts brushing my shirt with the teasing of a soft-core show.
My dick takes notice of her smaller size and how easy it’d be to conquer her.
Own her.
Once and for all.
But my brain recognizes that would be no different than shoving her back to the clusterfuck of a state she was in prior to the ‘incident.’
If anything, I shouldn’t be here, but she had to push my fucking buttons. She can’t help it.
“What do you think I’m doing, Mrs. King?”
My face is so close to hers, I feel her shallow breathing against my mouth and watch the slight tremble in her chin and the parting of her pillowy lips.
I even catch the small scar near her hairline and the flecks of forest green in her wide eyes.
She slams both her small hands on my chest, and I suppress a goddamn growl.
Bloody fucking hell.
This woman exists in my vicinity, and I’m tempted to shred every ounce of control that flows in my veins.
“Don’t touch me.” Her low yet firm voice fills the car.
“Is that a threat?”
“A warning.”
“And yet you’re the one who has her hands on me. Can’t resist me, huh?”
“You wish, prick.” Her words are merely a whisper as she pushes me away.
Or attempts to, anyway.
