“Because you’re shitty at it. And your nostrils twitch.”
“They do not!” I snap my hand up to cover my nose. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know people, Blondie, and I know liars. I know how to figure out who’s lying to me, since it’s kinda important in my work. So, I knowyou’rea shitty liar, and I know you’re lying about your shoes. Youknowhow much you paid for them. And since you don’t want to tell me, that means you paid too damn much.”
“They were on sale!”
He brings a hand up to cup my cheek and sighs. “I’m disappointed in you.‘They were on sale’is the same verbiage every woman that’s ever been victimized by their credit card and a shoe store has said. I figured you’d be more original. You’re almost a lawyer. You need to work on your bullshit before you become anunemployedlawyer.”
“Shut the hell up.” I shove him back and snatch my shoes away with a huff of indignation. The spoiled princess act isn’t really me, but it’s fun to play with him, and in my family, we so rarely get the chance to be a princess.
I move into the bedroom and sit on the end of his bed. Pulling on my shoes and flashing the world my new underwear, I shrug and work the buckles. It’s virtually impossible to do shoes up without opening your legs.
Doing what he does best, Kane stands against the wall and watches everything I do with a filthy grin. “It seriously confuses me to be turned on by my own underwear.”
“You’re a freak.”
“Nah. I’m a healthy, red-blooded man edging toward thirty. That’s the prime of my life, Blondie. The peak. The highest testosterone point of my existence.”
“You’re a sexual deviant who constantly talks about his dick.” I switch feet and pretend I’m not blushing. “I swear, in the time I’ve known you, you’ve talked about your dick so many times that–” He steps forward to argue, but I push on. “Ortouchedyourself so many times, you make me want to join a nunnery.”
“A nunnery.” He shoots his head back and gives himself a double chin of disgust. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“I don’t know!” I stand and jab a finger toward him. “You’re always talking about sex, and suddenly, I feel like an intruder. You love yourself so much, I feel like a third wheel on your personal time.”
Laughing, he hooks me around the waist and drags me forward until I slam against his chest. My eyes drop closed as soon as his teeth come to my earlobe, and goosebumps race along my skin when his hand slides along my hip and slowly drags the floaty material of my dress up. “I don’t want alone time, Jess. All of my sexually devious thoughts include you.” My dress tickles my sensitive flesh as it moves up my thigh. “Every single thought I’ve had about my cock this week has involved you being wrapped around it. Your pussy.” He drags my dress all the way up to my granny bra. “Your mouth.” With an arm around my torso, he holds my dress up and uses his other hand to slide along my ribs. “And don’t even get me started on your ass.” He pulls my ear between his lips, turning me into a panting mess. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve met in my life, and trust me, I meet beautiful women. But your eyes…” He slides his lips down to my throat. To my silvered scar. “Your eyes make me feel like I’m swimming in the ocean. Your eyes relax the fuck outta me.” Grabbing the loose corner of my bandage, he smacks a kiss to my neck, then shoves me away until the bandage tears away from my skin.
I catch myself against the opposite wall and turn back with feral rage radiating through my ‘relaxing eyes’.
He rolls the bandage up and tosses it into the trash, and with an arrogant wink, he steps forward and crowds me against the wall. “Time to take that off. Your stitches need air, too.”
“You’re an asshole with a flair for the dramatic.”
“Nah. I just wanted to talk about my dick some more. And your bandage needed to come off. I was saving time.”
“You were signing the contract that gets me into the nunnery.”
“No.” Laughing, moaning, mock crying, he presses a silly kiss to my neck. “Don’t join a convent. That would break my damned heart. Come on.” Patting my dress down, he taps my thigh. “Let’s go eat. When we get back, we’ll do the antibiotic cream. I wanna rub my cream into your skin, Blondie.”
“You’re a damn pig.”
Turning me toward the front door, he slaps my ass and sends me skipping forward. “Move it. You’re the one bitching about food. Now you’d rather stay here and talk about my dick. Make up your mind.”
I stomp forward and dramatically kick the pots away from the door, but his laughter only echoes behind, following as I step into the hall.