Page 101 of Mile High Ruin

“Was it?”

“No.”

“Did you kiss me because someone told you to?”

“No.”

His fingers dig into my side. “Did you let me touch you because it gave you access?”

“Fuck you.” The words come out shaking.

Something flashes in his face. Then he kisses me.

There’s nothing gentle about it. His mouth crashes into mine, hard enough that I stumble backward until my spine hits the stone wall beside the balcony door.

I should push him away.

I don’t.

I hate myself for that almost as much as I hate him.

His hand cups the back of my neck, holding me where he wants me while he kisses me with all the anger he refused to show in his voice. It feels like punishment.

It feels like hunger.

It feels like both of us are trying to prove something neither of us understands.

I bite his lower lip. Hard.

He growls into my mouth, and his hand slides inside the robe. My nipple tightens beneath his palm. I gasp as he kneads my breast roughly, thumb dragging over the hard peak while his mouth moves down my jaw.

“You should be disgusted with me,” he says against my throat.

“I am.”

His teeth scrape the skin beneath my ear.

My knees weaken.

He knows. The bastard knows.

His hand moves lower, over my stomach, down between my thighs.

I catch his wrist. “No.”

He stops. Immediately.

That surprises me.

His face is inches from mine, breathing hard, still furious and aroused. His cock presses against my hip. For several seconds, neither of us moves.

Then his eyes drop to where my hand is gripping his wrist.

Something changes.

He pulls his hand away. I hate the loss of it instantly. My pussy throbs with the sudden absence as he steps back. Cold air rushes between us, and I tighten the robe around myself.

“You think I tried to get you killed.”