Yes, I know she’s angry, but my cock can’t take a hint to save his life.
Cecily never dresses up for nights out. She has the same copy-paste style of jeans, a T-shirt, and comfy-looking tennis shoes. But tonight, the shirt is a bit tighter, molding against the curve of her round breasts and her defined waist.
The writing on it is in big, bold letters.Party person. Not.
Ever since she whirled around, I’ve been clenching my fist at my side, barely stopping my beast from taking action. He’s aroused by the expression on her face.
The stiffness of her muscles.
The sharpness of her demeanor.
Defiance radiates off her in waves. She’s glaring at me, but something else lurks behind the apparent emotion.
Something like…disdain.Pain.
“I’m not starting anything with you.” Her body shakes with the guttural quality of her voice.
She’s forcing something a lot deeper than words.
I lean against the car behind me, letting my body fall into a neutral stance by crossing my legs at the ankles. Either that or I’ll drag her with me by my hand around her throat.
A throat that’s no longer red and purple with the evidence of my teeth. It’s pale, translucent, crowded with veins and arteries peeking through the skin. Cecily watches my every move, that delicate throat working up and down with a swallow.
Note to self: mark it again.
I glide my forefinger against my thigh, back and forth in a controlled rhythm. “Youarecoming with me. Whether you do it nicely or after I resort to unpleasant methods is up to you.”
Her eyes darken further, muscles stiffening, and a halo of tension envelops her body.
She clicks on her key, the sound of the unlocking car echoing around us, but Cecily doesn’t break eye contact as she reaches behind her to open the door.
Hmm.
She’s smart enough to not give me her back again or put herself in a vulnerable position that I couldandwould make use of.
I knew I liked how fast she catches on. She’s so intelligent and careful,toocareful sometimes, that I barely resist laughing at how far she’s backing herself in a corner.
None of her guarded behavior will make a difference, but I like that she tries.
I like it too much.
“Don’t.”
She freezes at my single word, her inquisitive gaze watching me again, imploring, taking every bit of me into her subconscious.
“I’m going home,” she announces with a lifted chin. She even sounds confident. I’ll give her that.
“No, you’re not.”
She does a spectacular job of breathing in and out in a regular rhythm. Cecily isn’t the type who’s prone to dramatics and she always thinks her actions and words through before unleashing them on the world.
Carefully.
Assertively.
Except for where it matters the most—her sexuality. She’s still too new to that side of her and too concerned about the outside world.
“What do you want from me, Jeremy?”