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“Are you trying to humiliate me?” she snaps.
“What?” I say, my voice just as fierce, fueled by rage and want and need and her. Everything about her intoxicates me. “What are you talking about?”
“Does it look like I can touch my toes?”
I stalk closer to her until I’m standing over her and staring down. Something about the sassiness in her tone makes me want to fist that dark ponytail and forcibly guide her lips to mine.
“I didn’t say you had to,” I growl. “I said try.”
“Well, look at me,” she hisses.
I take a step back and move my gaze up and down her body, not even bothering to hide the desire roaring through me now. I devour the sight of her, a chorus rising in my ears, a deafening chorus I can’t ignore.
It’s those juicy breasts. It’s the pout on her lips. It’s the flare in her eyes.
It’s those hips, made for bringing children into this world.
Everything about this nineteen year old firecracker has got me fucked up in a hundred different ways.
“I’m looking,” I growl. “Now what?”
She tilts her head, sassiness warring with nervousness, a gorgeous contradiction I could study for hours.
“You know what?” she snaps. “I think this was a bad idea. I don’t know what I was thinking, actually.”
She turns and strides toward the door, shaking her head. I will myself to watch her go, to not give a damn. But there’s something in the heartache of her words that has me feeling … human, almost guilty, even if I’ve got no clue why she’s suddenly storming out like this.
“Jade, wait,” I say firmly, in a tone of voice that offers no chance for argument.
She stops at the door with a sigh and then turns slowly.
“What?” she says.
“You need to explain why you’re throwing a hissy fit before we’ve even started,” I snarl. “That’s what.”
Her mouth falls open in a way that makes me want to put something in it, over and over again, until she’s spitting and coughing all over my massive thick pole.
She stares hard and then takes several steps forward.
Her eyes flit to my manhood for a moment. I don’t turn away or try and hide the throbbing length of my cock from her. I want her to see it, I realize, even if it’s the last thing I should be doing.
I try to think of Yasmin’s reaction if she ever found out, but thinking of my daughter is impossible right now.
All that exists for me is Jade, my woman, the future mother of my children, just fucking mine.
“So you look at me and see no problem in asking me to do something athletic? Jesus, Jamie, do I really have to spell it out for you?”
I stare at her, wondering just what the hell she’s going on about.
All I know is that being this close to her – with the winter snowdrop whirling world outside seeming a million miles away – has made me feel more alive than I have since I stepped in the MMA cage for the first time.
“I guess you’ll have to,” I snarl. “Because I’ve got no damn clue what you’re talking about.”
She sighs shakily and then folds her arms, causing those breasts to push together alluringly.
“I’m f—”
I’m fat.
No fucking way is she allowed to say that.
Something in me snaps, a primal chord shattering and blaring loudly through me.
I surge forward when I realize what she’s about to say.
I grab her by the shoulders and shove her up against the wall, my chest heaving as rage thuds through me, as every muscle in my body tightens to breaking point.
I lean close to her, studying the dancing uncertainty in her eyes, as though she’s only just now realizing what sort of beast I am.
I can feel her breath on me, hot and filled with her tempting scent.
“Never fucking say that,” I snarl. “Never. Do you understand? Your body is curvy and plus size and sexy as fuck. Your body is the sort men would fight wars over in the old days. Your tits are large and your hips are round and your ass is big, fine, but big isn’t bad. With you, Jade, big is fucking perfect. And it’s a dangerous game, putting yourself down with me around because I might just have to show you how wrong you are.”
Her breath comes quickly, panting gulps as her eyes widen and she realizes just what sort of man she’s dealing with.
Chapter Five
Jade
Being a writer means that I live most of my life inside my own head, fanciful worlds sprouting and populating my consciousness every second of every day.
So for the first few moments that Jamie has me pushed up against the wall – his manly musk washing over me, his hands gripping my shoulders possessively – I’m almost certain it’s some sort of hyperreal fever dream.
