Page 44 of Carnal Wagers

Trust me, you’ll like it.

I don’t trust you.

You want to.

I snorted. The nerve of her.

No.

Would you feel better if I tasted it for you?

No.

Be right there. I can’t let you suffer this kind of loss.

I tried this once in New Orleans after a night of drinking.

It’s the perfect type of pick-me-up.

I didn’t get to reply before a knock tapped against the door. Immediately, I was casing the exit, reaching for my gun set on a side tray.

“What is it, Cassie?” Levi yelled, his attention glued to his design on my pec.

It wasn’t his blonde receptionist. Instead, my stalker moseyed into the room, wide-eyed and lips pursed in feigned innocence.

“Sorry, not Cassie.”

The whirring of the tattoo gun ceased.

“You’re not allowed in here. Cassie!”

“Don’t worry.” She waved her arms in front of her. “I’ll be quick. I simply need to test the drink for your client.”

Her wink invigorated me more than all the needling from the tattoo. My gaze flitted down her body, covered in a tight-fitting, neck-to-calf woolen dress designed to coerce all the blood to my cock, and a set of heels thick enough to bash in a man’s skull. I’d gladly shimmy that dress up her thighs and past her hips to swat those round globes red before—I shut down that train of thought. No spanking. No fucking. No nothing. I shoved my tongue against my teeth and ground my jaw.

“You have some nerve. I’ll give you that. Not an ounce of self-preservation.”

She shrugged, reached into the bag, and pulled out the thermos. “I have to. You wouldn’t let me in otherwise.”

“There is no in.”

“Want to bet on that?”

Her nails grazed over the lid and slowly twisted it open. Never had the act of untwisting a cap looked more appealing than the way her fingers wrapped and curved around that bottle. I swore between my teeth.

Her eyes snared mine as the rim settled against her mouth. Her throat bobbed with each swallow. Her tongue lapped at a drop dangling from her plump lower lip. An urge flamed to lick it myself. To charge her, shove her against that wall, dig my hands over her scalp, and prove exactly the menace I was to her. My fists bunched as my pants tightened around my groin.

“See.” She lowered the damn thermos as I squeezed the chair’s foam to a pulp. “Completely safe.”

No, she fucking wasn’t, and she damn well knew it too.

“Get out,” I said, my voice brittle, lost to need.

The airy laugh she left behind drove me closer to that edge. I teetered, balancing on a tightrope over a void of full-blown chaos. The edge I’d searched for years. The one I’d barely skimmed, no matter how hard I tried to leap over it. Yet she bulldozed her way in and shoved me to my limit, forcing my arms to wheel me back to stability.

Don’t come back.

I’m too stubborn not to.