“Ding-dong. Ever heard of answering the door?”
I glare at him, noticing he’s wearing a Halloween costume. He looks like the devil. He’s dressed head to toe in black, the button-down shirt is black, and his jeans are black as well. He’s wearing a pair of devil horns on his head, giving him a medieval look.
“If I wanted to talk to you, I would’ve answered. Also, what the hell are you wearing?”
“Good thing I don’t care what you want.” He looks down at his costume. “And Hades—King of the Underworld—why do I not look the part?”
I shrug. “You look fine. Now get out because you’re interrupting a good chapter of my new book.”
I point to the door, but he doesn’t appear to have heard a single word I’ve said because instead of leaving, he continues into the room, stopping only once he reaches my bed.
His scent invades me, and I try not to look at him because I know as soon as I do, he’ll draw me in—he always does. Still, I end up peeking up at him.
His midnight-black hair has grown out a little, a few strands cling to his forehead, and I’m tempted to reach up and brush them away. The usual faint dark bags under his eyes seem a little darker than normal, and I wonder if he’s sleeping at night? It’s none of my business, and I shouldn’t care, but I can’t help myself.
He doesn’t deserve my compassion, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to give it to him.
As if he’d take it anyway.
Those dark eyes of his pierce right into me, immobilizing me. I lick my lips involuntarily. The air heats around us. Is this all we will ever be? Two people who fuck each other but pretend there is nothing but hate between them?
“Forget the book and get dressed,” he demands. “We’re going to a Halloween party.”
I grit my teeth. “We are not going anywhere. You are leaving.”
He leans down, his eyes gleaming with annoyance. His spicy cologne fills my nostrils, and the heat of his body blankets mine. “I don’t remember asking you what you wanted.”
“I have nothing to wear.” I frown, giving him a lame excuse.
Quinton rolls his eyes like I’m inconveniencing him. “Here.” He tosses a bag at me I wasn’t aware he was holding.
It lands in front of me, and I stare down at it. Fuck. “You have it all planned, don’t you? Where did you even get a dress?” It’s not like he can drive down to the mall and pick something up.
“Don’t worry about that.” Quinton’s grin widens. “Of course, I planned everything. Now, get dressed, or I’ll get you dressed, and I promise, you don’t want me to do that because we might not make it out of this bedroom.”
“Seriously?” I sigh and toss my hands in the air. “We both know there’s nothing for me at a Halloween party. Nobody wants me there, and I don’t want to be anywhere that I’m not wanted. Plus, I’m not wearing some stupid costume where you show my ass and tits off to your friends. I’m not some show horse.” I know I’m pushing it, but I want him to understand how much I don’t want to do this.
I’ve struck a nerve, and I know it because the contours of his face harden to stone. Moving lightning fast, he strikes like a jaguar, his hand circling my throat.
The movement causes me to move up the bed, and my head presses against the wall. His grip is firm, and I stare up into his eyes, waiting to see what he does next.
I’m at his mercy, completely trapped between him and the wall.
“I want you there,” he whispers, leaning into my face. He seems different tonight, and I wonder if that has anything to do with Vito, the new guy, taking a strange liking to me.
“Well, I don’t want myself there,” I say, my voice coming out a little weaker than intended.
“I’m not going to put you in some skintight costume. Open the bag and put the dress on. You’ll look beautiful.”
An entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupts in my belly at the fire that flickers in his eyes. He could eat me alive, and the worst part is, I would let him.
I want to challenge him, but would it really matter? Quinton is like a shark, and any sign of weakness to him is like blood in the water.
“I don’t want to go,” I whine.
He releases my throat, and I think maybe I’ve gotten through to him until his nimble fingers reach for the button on his jeans.
Those full lips of his tip up at the sides. “Well, since you don’t want to go, maybe it’s better that we discuss your payment for this room. I think it’s time for a proper thank you.”