Shock stretched his eyes wide as he jumped up off the bed. The scream scratched that itch in my throat, burning like I wanted the alcohol to, biting pain into my muscles as I pushed and pushed my vocal chords harder than they should go. They were stretching, burning, peeling down the edges as I wore them thin enough to snap.
My oxygen was running out, and just before I lost all my air, a burly hand slapped over my mouth and shut my scream down. Fingers clamped onto my cheeks and snapped my head back. Just along my collarbone, the shadow of his other hand threatened around my throat, and I wondered just how close he came to choking my scream silent.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
Something beyond annoyance wrote itself in along the lines of his face, and I popped an eyebrow up at him. He scowled at the gesture, expelling waves of heat lined with his untamed anger. “You are a fucking nightmare, you know that?”
Fingers wrapping around his thick forearm, I yanked his hand away from my mouth.
“I do. Now go take your ninth shot.”
Reyes’ fingers tempting just beneath my throat twitched, and I watched as the soft spots of his jaw compacted. The gloss of his stare was now encumbered by a waning restraint that ticked down in his eyes like the handle of an elevator sinking down, down, down, threatening an impending explosion.
“I think I’m good for the night,” he spoke, slow and graveled.
“That’s not part of the game.”
“I’m ending the game.”
“Oh, are you a sore loser, Agent?” I cocked my head back, pushing my bottom lip out for show. His eyes lowered to my mouth, and thoughts I was not permitted to but could take a pretty fucking good guess at dilated his pupils and told me Agent Reyes was just as weak as any other man I’d met.
His lips lifted into a sneer. “Don’t pout. You’re not a child.”
Sucking my bottom lip back with a brush of my teeth over its swollen top, I shifted myself forward on the bed.
“Does it bother you, sir?”
Reyes’ nostrils flared out as his eyes became harsh slits. ”You think you’re real fucking cute, don’t you?”
“The cutest.”
The warmth of his body bled heat through my own as he hunched himself over where I sat. “Bet you would have looked cute in an orange jumpsuit if your father hadn’t gotten your charges dropped.”
Ah, so he’s a mean drunk. Good.
I jutted my chin up at him, holding back my smirk. “Orange isn’t normally my color, but I was betting I could pull it off.”
“You know…” He was so close that his grasp around my chin was neither a far reach nor unanticipated. His thumb sunk into the curve of my chin, arching my head back and setting his gaze to mine. “Little girls like you should be tucked into bed instead of burning down State Governors’ houses, right?”
“Did you ever think that it’s because of little girls like me that he deserved it?” I spat back.
Intrigue pulled his eyebrows together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re a dick.” I yanked my chin out of his hold and got up off the bed.
Annoyance swelled through my lungs as I breathed back a sigh. If this motherfucker could just insult me one more time, we’d be in business. One more shot, and he’d be out like a pinched flame, and I could get the fuck out of this nauseating four-walled cell.
My phone buzzed again in my pocket, and an exasperated grumble vibrated my throat.
I’m trying, asshole.
“So, what’s the score? Four to nine?” I asked.
“I told you. We’re done playing.”
“I’m not done. I’m winning.”
He ignored me. “Then you can play by yourself.”