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His eyes trace up my boots before traveling up my legs and finally reaching my gaze, his dark eyes unreadable,
“No deal.” Kaleb states. The words are so soft that it takes a minute for me to process them. And the’ he's standing, strutting out of the tent before I can even so much as blink.
Momentarily stunned, it takes me a minute to get my shit together before I find myself pushing off the leather-covered chair, anger quick on my heels.
No, what did he mean no? ’idn't he want his precious journal?
Shoving aside the silk curtain I find him walking towards the bar. The bikini-clad chicks from earlier eye him hungrily and my anger increases tenfold. Before I know it, I’m near the pool's edge, and I grab his wrist twirling him around to face me.
“What the hell do you mean no?” I practically scream in his face. Several of the nearby party-goers glance our way and I scowl in their direction.
“I mean I don't do deals with people who are knee-deep in others' shit. It's too messy and much too complicated for my tastes.” My cheeks flare red at his words. He was so bloody impossible I wanted to scream. Noticing my frustration he smirks, prying each of my individual fingers off his wrist before turning around, already on his way back towards the bar.
Asshole.
“Isn't your back sore?” I yell at his back, my frustration getting the better of me. He pauses, his head turning slightly in my direction,
“You know from carrying that ego of yours?” I finish watching as several people start to snicker, staring at the two of us.
Kaleb turns around fully now. And before I know it, he's moving. Charging towards me until we collide. His breath mingles with mine, his body so close I would only have to shift my hips and we’d be grinding fully against one another.
“My back is fine,” he mutters, “Yours however might need a few days to recuperate after all the things I have planned for you Blondie” My nose scrunches as I try to ignore the heat traveling up my cheeks and pooling in between my legs. I hold his stare. His black pupils burned down at me with a menace. Showing me he was prepared to fight tooth and nail.
So was I.
“My name’s not Blondie,” I practically growl as I move forward, my thighs now touching his. His eyes turn fierce, and I watch as his smile turns into an almost feral grin before his hands grab my face, causing me to stumble back as he crushes his mouth to mine with brutal force. His tongue invades my mouth with an almost animalistic fever as his hands pull the hair at the nape of my neck, easing my lips apart with the thrusts of his tongue until I’m drowning in him.
This wasn't a kiss to seduce, this wasn't a kiss to please, this was a kiss to claim.
To destroy.
To ruin.
And I was powerless against it.
He kisses me, his weight pressing into me until my feet hit the edge of the pool and I realize all too late what he's doing. My heels slip and then I’m falling, my back hitting the water, causing the pool to swallow me whole. For a moment everything is quiet, completely and blessedly silent, and then I’m coughing, spewing chlorine from my nose and mouth. My hair sticks to my face and my clothes are completely drenched and clinging to my body.
Looking up I find Kaleb looking down at me, a smirk etched on his perfect face.
I was going to kill him.
He kneels in front of me, the fresh towel dangling from his fingertips while taking in my very wet appearance,
“I will get my journal back one way or another and there's nothing you can do to stop me, Blondie.” He spats before dropping the fresh towel into the pool, soaking the fibers along with any chance I have of getting dry before turning to walk away.
The asshole doesn't even bother to look back.
Chapter 9
Rose
I couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning, I let out a sigh, waiting for sleep to take me but it refused. Restless, I turned my pillow over, fluffing it with my fists before settling atop the newly cooled cotton. But his stupid eyes were there when I closed my own.
Staring back at me.
Haunting me in their dark perfection.
Even after coming home soaking wet, drenched in pool water, I still thought of him. Of his twisted broken games. The way his fingers felt pressing into me. The tortured look in his eyes when he refused my deal.
