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She snorts. “Yeah, right.”
Her expression clouds, so I clamp my mouth shut, unsure what I’ve said wrong. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. Setting my fork aside, I push my chair back and stand.
Kendall looks up. “Are you leaving?”
She looks stricken, and I glance around for some consolation.
“I need to check on … something. Chaya will stay until you’re finished.”
I don’t wait for her answer before heading upstairs.
Outside of Tori’s room, I force myself to pause and knock.
“Who is it?” I hear from inside.
Rather than give her the chance to refuse me, I push the door open and step inside.
Tori freezes mid-stride, her eyes widening. “What the hell are you doing in here?” she demands.
She’s wearing a satin robe that ends at mid-thigh, revealing more of her body than I’ve ever seen.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” I demand.
“A robe,” she says like I’m the one being ridiculous.
I stare at the hemline. At the skin it reveals. The soft, touchable, delicious-looking flesh I desperately want to touch?—
“Hello?”
Her harsh voice snaps me out of my fantasies. I meet her gaze evenly despite every fiber of my being wanting to strip her out of the thing and bury myself inside her.
“If you didn’t want me to wear it, you shouldn’t have put it in here,” she snaps.
“I didn’t.”
Chaya stocks the rooms. I’ve never asked to see the pieces she chooses. I’ve never visited guests in this…state.
“Hey, asshole.” She snaps her fingers, and I blink, realizing I’m staring again. “This is my room,” she snarls. “You have no right to barge in like this.”
“I think the words you are looking for are ‘thank you.’”
“Excuse me?” Her eyes flash with temper. And though she’s infuriating me, I can’t help the thought of taking her like this. Furious, arguing. Watching her come beneath me with fire burning in her gaze.
“For saving you. And your sister,” I add. If she wants a fight, I’ll give it to her. “You’re welcome.”
“Actually,” she says sweetly, “you’re close, but I think the words I’m looking for are fuck you.”
I take a step toward her, vibrating with barely controlled need and temper. “Your mouth is going to get you in trouble.”
“What are you going to do, kick me out? Please do.”
I stride toward her, but she backs away, leaning against the balcony doors with wide eyes.
“You can’t touch me,” she blurts. “I’ll hurt you.”
Very carefully, I reach around her and click the latch open so that the doors spill outward. She stumbles back a step before catching her balance. Straightening, she glares at me.
My lips curve in a smile that, judging from her flaring nostrils, only makes her angrier. I don’t move, happy to take all her ire. She wants games, fine. But I will have her in the end.
