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He lets out a sarcastic bark of a laugh. “That’s rich. Somehow, I’m the bad guy when you’re the one that’s going behind my back to get a different job.” He glares at me, fire in his eyes. “I thought you wanted to run that childcare blog? I thought you wanted to look after Violet? Which one is the truth, hm? It’s just that easy to drop us now, is it? They offer you a lot of money?”
The implication stabs my chest like a knife right to the heart. “Are you kidding me?” I snap. “First of all, I’m not looking for another nannying job. I probably couldn’t get one even if I tried because of all the shit that came out about the two of us!”
“Don’t blame me for the paparazzi being assholes.”
“Not just paparazzi, but Paula and Bastian. People you chose to be around.”
“Let’s not start splitting hairs about who’s around the worst kind of people.” He rolls his eyes. “But I forgot—Quinn doesn’t count. She gets forgiveness.”
“She doesn’t act like a spoiled, self-entitled brat, so that helps!”
I don’t even know why we’re arguing these points. We’ve lost the plot. At this point, we’re just frustrated. I can feel it, like the emotion is crackling through the air with a life of its own.
I breathe deeply through my nose and look Reese in the eyes. “What is your problem? What’s your real problem, Reese?”
Reese scoffs. He pushes away from the counter and approaches me. I sidestep him. We must look like a pair of cats, circling around each other in a predatory dance.
“My problem is how fuckin’ stubborn you are. How annoying you are. How frustrating you are.”
“If I’m so fucking stubborn, and so annoying, and so frustrating, why do you even care if I stay or if I go?”
Reese pushes into my space. Before I know it, I’m backed against the countertop. His arms cage me there. Under the scent of the bar clings the cologne that he always wears.
“You said you loved me,” he growls. “You can’t just take it back and think I’m going to be okay with it.”
“I never stopped loving you!” I cry out. His audacity is infuriating. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You have a wife!”
“If there’s anyone that’s my wife, it’s you!”
We’re both panting. Breath mingling, hot. My heart leaps into my throat at his declaration and I swallow it right back down.
“We’re not married,” I croak. “We’re not even engaged.”
“But you’re mine,” he snarls. “So help me, Olivia, you’re fucking mine.”
His mouth presses to mine. This kiss steals my breath away in an instant. Reese’s body, hard and wanting, traps me to the counter. I have no desire to try and escape. All my desire is here, with him. Desire, confusion, want—all of it swirls in my mind as I fist Reese’s hair. Our tongues meet somewhere in the middle of our lips and all the tension of the last week explodes between us.
This is stupid.
I know that. He knows that.
It just doesn’t matter.
“This won’t change anything,” I pant, fingers falling to Reese’s pants to undo his button and zipper.
“Doesn’t matter,” he growls. “I’ll make you see reality.”
It sounds as much a threat as it is a promise. It makes my skin tingle. I want nothing more than for things to go back to the way they were. Desperately. I want Reese to prove me wrong. I want him to be a man I can believe in.
Hand wrapped around his cock, I stroke him, looking him in the eyes.
“Prove it then,” I challenge.
A snarl curls Reese’s lips. He bucks into my hand, hard arches of his hips pumping against me. Then, suddenly, he pulls away, flipping me over so my stomach presses to the counter. Before I can say anything, he has my skirt shoved up and my panties pushed to the side.
He enters me in a single, hard thrust.
And I see stars.
