I’ve always known how dangerous Dex Cohen could be, but he’s always been more like a wolf in sheep’s clothing—staying outwardly cool while danger brewed inside him. But tonight feels different. His cold mask has fallen and in its place is a frightening fury. His dark eyes have a wildness I’ve never seen there before and I catch myself stepping back, pulling a dining room chair between us.
“And that’s exactly why I knew we couldn’t be in business together!” I shout back. “You always saw me as a little girl—hell, you were the closest thing I had to a brother growing up, at least until you went away for college. You came back changed. Harder. Too much like your father.”
“Hell yes, I changed, but baby, so did you. Newsflash! I haven’t thought of you like a sister since the day you watched me get sucked off by some random chick in that linen closet when you were sixteen. And don’t you even try to pretend that day didn’t happen because I saw you. Playing with yourself under your prim and proper school uniform as you watched. Your big green eyes overflowing with lust. Tell me, Katja. Did you come that day watching me with another woman?”
Ancient memories I’ve tried to forget crash in, spiking my heart rate. I’m desperate to keep my secret hidden—that I’ve masturbated to that memory more times that I can count.
“I can’t believe you’re bringing up that day now. Fifteen years after it happened! And what does that have to do with anything?”
Dex picks up the chair between us and practically throws it out of the way, sending it to the floor with a bang as he rushes toward me. I stumble backward, my shoulders colliding with the wall of windows facing Central Park.
I’ve never seen Dex look this frightening—dangerous—breathtaking. His hard body slams into me with enough velocity to take my breath away. Fight or flight instincts invade, and I lift my hand to slap him away, but he grabs my wrist, trapping it above my head against the glass. He moves his other palm to my throat, pressing just hard enough to constrict my breathing.
Our faces are inches apart, making it easy for me to watch the small smile grace his lips.
“You feel that, princess?” He crushes his hips against me, gyrating to make sure I feel his hard cock. “Does that feel brotherly to you?”
My mind races for something to say to de-escalate things. I come up empty, giving him the chance to continue.
“This, right here, is the real reason you kicked me out years ago. You were too afraid to acknowledge the chemistry between us. Once you lost your father as your buffer, you tucked your tail and ran the other way. Well, I got news for you, baby. You’re done running—from your financial mistakes—from your disastrous decision to marry Tristan, a beta male you could boss around—and from me, your…”
His voice trails off, as if he’s trying to find the right word to describe what the fuck this connection is between us. Many confusing labels have fit us over the years—childhood friends, pseudo siblings, business partners—but more recently ‘enemies’ was most accurate.
“Your what, Dex?” I whisper. I’m unsure why I’m pressing him for an answer to a question I’m pretty sure I don’t want the answer to.
Several seconds tick by. I’m getting lightheaded, not from lack of oxygen, but from his proximity. I’m hyperaware of every connection. His slightly calloused hand on my bare neck reminds me of how hard he works for all he has. His scent invades my senses as his hard body has my body softening in response—melting with an unwanted wave of sexual need.
I need to get away from him before we do something really stupid.
I muster the courage to whisper, “Let go, Dex.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
His mouth crushes mine in a savage kiss. The glass behind me is his accomplice, holding me in place while his tongue licks the seam of my lips, demanding entry. I taste the wine just as my knees give out beneath me. The weight of his body keeps me from falling as he moves his hand from my neck down to squeeze my ass through my business skirt, pulling me against his body.
A far away voice in my head tells me how dangerous this is, but the rest of my body is quickly surrendering to the wave of desire he’s been stoking for weeks with our little game of cat and mouse.
His fingers are back under my skirt, right where they left-off hours before at The Rooftop.
I move my only free hand to his arm. My brain shouts to push him away, but instead, I grasp his suit jacket for dear life just as his fingers pinch my clit.
It’s impossible to stop my obscene moan of desire as he shoves his fingers inside me hard enough to lift me to my tippy-toes. I’d love to blame my desperate craving to come on my long bout of abstinence, but we’d both know that was only part of the truth.
Dex pulls out of our kiss, giving us both a moment to catch our breath while he demonstrates his expert knowledge of a woman’s anatomy. Within seconds, he has me on the brink of orgasm, and God help me, I want him to finish.
“Open your eyes,” he barks.
In my precarious state, it takes a moment to make my eyes comply. The sight of his too-handsome face, full of a dominant lust, takes my breath away.
“You feel it too. I know you do,” he taunts.
Is he being obtuse? Of course, I feel his shaft through his pants. It’s impossible to miss.
His voice sounds gravelly as he adds, “It’s like a fucking magnet—pulling us together. You’ve tried desperately to push away, but the pull will always send us crashing back together. It hit me this afternoon, after you left The Rooftop. We’ve spent the last fifteen years in one long game of foreplay. Tonight, foreplay ends, and the real game begins.”
His words jar me out of my sexual haze enough to douse my climax. My brain understands the words he said, but I still grapple with their deeper meaning.
In one quick motion, Dex steps back, releasing me to fall forward, directly into his arms as he scoops me up and carries me a few feet back to the dining room table. There’s a loud clatter of dishes and silverware as he uses one arm to swish the place setting, food, and wine out of the way.