Page 5 of Unleashed

At least not on the right things.

Right now I’m having no trouble focusing on the way Maren’s pupils dilate and her breathing speeds. I know it’s not fear—the woman isn’t afraid of anything, especially me. That leaves one, much more problematic, reason for the change.

I smirk, feeling like I’m finally getting the upper hand with her. “What’s wrong, Maren? Can’t decide if you want to fuck me or fight me?”

Maren’s jaw drops open. “Are you kidding me?”

That isn’t the denial I was expecting. Which is not a great thing. Not when I’ve spent all day staring down the reality of the life I chose. The life I will always choose, again and again.

“Have I ever struck you as a man who kids?” I fight the urge to run my thumb over her lower lip.

And fail.

“I think the reason you claim to hate me so much is because you want me so much.” It sounds like I’m psychoanalyzing the woman pressed against me, but she’s not the victim of my bourbon muddled brain’s sudden strike of clarity. Thankfully, it still possesses the power of deflection, so instead of claiming the accusation for myself, I put it directly on her. If for no other reason than because it will piss her off, and one of us needs to find the strength to stop this moment in its tracks.

But instead of getting angry, Maren laughs, this time seeming genuinely amused. “You think I want you?” Her chin lifts as she straightens, coming nose to nose with me. “I think it’s you who wants me.” Her lips twist into a smirk. “I bet your dick is hard right now just thinking about it.”

Fucking hell. I know better than to take this woman on. I should have realized any headway I thought I’d made was nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

But I can’t stop now. Can’t back down. I’m already going to be walking out of this house miserable and alone, I’m sure as shit not going to do it without my pride.

So I stare her down as I throw down the gauntlet, ready to back off when she makes her escape. “There’s only one way to find out.”

It’s a dare. A challenge. Pushing things farther than I believe they’ll go.

Because I’m stupid. Willfully ignorant on a topic I probably know a little too much about.

Because like me, Maren doesn’t back down. Not from anyone. Not from anything.

Before I can blink, her fingers are locked onto the solid line of my cock where it throbs in my pants. Her expression turns victorious. “That’s what I thought.”

It takes everything I have to bite back a groan when she gives me a little squeeze. But this is war, and I will fucking win it.

“Awfully cocky for a woman who’s probably drenched her panties thinking about me.” I lean into her ear, letting my lips brush against it. “Imagining all the ways you could find to shut me up.”

I’ve never thought about what it would be like to fuck Maren. Certainly never imagined the way she would squirm under my tongue as I teased her to the edge, leaving her hanging over and over again until my only two options are death at the hands of a tiny woman or giving her what she wants. And definitely never thought about how good it would feel to sink into her while she tells me what an asshole I am and scratches lines of her hate into my skin.

I’m also a liar.

“Sorry to burst your bubble.” She still hasn’t let my cock go and is now thumbing across the tip where it’s trapped just below my waistband. “But my panties are as dry as the Sahara.”

“I don’t believe you.” Not for a second. Not with the way her chest is rising and falling and her hand keeps flexing against my shaft. “I think you’re a liar.” Just like me.

Maren narrows her eyes. “I think you’re just looking for an excuse to touch me, because you want me so bad.”

A minor technicality I’m not going to admit. “Fine.” I manage a shrug. “If you want to forfeit your win by omission, that’s your choice.”

Maren’s expression turns outraged. “Fuck you.”

“You claim you don’t want that.” I straighten away from her. “But since I don’t have any proof to the contrary, I’m going to assume it’s actually what you want more than anything.”

I don’t know what my end goal here is. To win. Not to lose. What Maren claims, and to finally get to touch her the way I’ve imagined more times than is likely healthy. Possibly all of it.

“Fine.” She grabs the flowing skirt of her dress, hiking it up to her waist and revealing a shapely set of legs that would wrap perfectly around my hips. One hand grips my wrist, wedging my palm between a set of thighs I’m already picturing smashed against my ears. “See?”

Oh I see. I haven’t stopped seeing since she lifted her dress.

But she’s also wrong. Very, very wrong.