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“Hey, bro. We’ll see you at breakfast.”
With that, he hung up, still clutching my wrist.
“This is… what are you doing… not fun.”
He leaned down until his face was level with mine, then growled, “You think?”
He pulled me back to the chair and back into his lap into the same position as before, dangerously close to his cock, too close for comfort.
Damn, why was he so big, and strong, and annoyingly sexy in the way he handled me? Not that I wanted to be handled by him…in any way.
“What do you want from me?”
It was as if the question caught him off guard, but then his lips slowly turned into a lewd smile.
So his head was firmly in the gutter.
I narrowed my eyes. “No answer? Good.”
I looked around since I didn’t have my purse on me, and he apparently didn’t bring it with him while carrying me. “Well, give me my passport, and I’ll leave.”
“I got a better idea.”
“You do? Because, honestly, I don’t think anything going on in that brain of yours I would really count as a good idea.”
He chuckled. “Are you done insulting me?”
I cocked my head. “Probably not.”
He shook his head and sighed again as if I was causing him a headache. “Well, let me tell you what’s happening from now on. You and I will be attached at the hip. Where I go, you go.”
I stared at him. Because obviously, he’d lost his marbles. “Ahem. No.”
“Fee,” he growled, which annoyingly caused a small shiver to run down my spine and a miniscule clenching of my core.
“From now on, you act like my girlfriend. You eat with me, you sleep with me, you spend every waking minute with me.”
Wait, what?
No. Or, more precisely, hell no.
I gave him an eye roll. Sleep with him? Pretend to be his girlfriend? Why in the world would I ever do that when I could just leave? “Yeah, I don’t know what kind of mushrooms you’ve taken. But that’s obviously not happening.”
“It’s not?” His lips warped into a dangerous smile. “So you’d rather I lock you up? Because it’s either being my fake girlfriend or being locked up. Your choice.”
“That is not a choice; that’s a threat.” I leaned forward and strained up until we were almost at eye level.
It would’ve been better if his face wasn’t as handsome. If his pure male scent wasn’t as intoxicating, and if I wasn’t sitting on his lap, but his arm wrapped around my waist wasn’t going anywhere.
“Stop trying to intimidate me. I’m not negotiating with terrorists or assholes.”
He leaned forward, dared me to back down—which I had zero intention of doing. “You sure you don’t want to choose?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Nope.”
He laid his hand on my thigh, and the unexpected move threw me off-kilter.
“There’s a third option,” he said in a cruel whisper, then he slowly pushed his hand upwards, soft, almost like a caress.
