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“Not really.” Weak, more submissive than she liked, her voice trembled as her gaze held his.
Not in fear, but in a variety of other emotions. Emotions she wasn’t certain she knew how to adapt to.
She only wished her response to this new, volcanic Casey was fear. Fear would have been easier to handle. It would have been far easier to understand than the other emotions she felt.
Especially the lust. The hunger.
The angrier he became, the more she wanted him.
She could feel her nipples hardening and tightening, growing more sensitive by the second as he glared into her eyes.
“Not really?” he snarled back at her. “Maybe I want to tell you anyway. Just for the fucking hell of it.”
“If you feel you have to.” She shrugged, almost catching her breath at the feel of her nipples raking against the material of her bra.
And she wasn’t the only one who felt the lust. Amid his anger, that hunger was there as well. The feel of his erection pressing wide and hard against her belly assured her of that. He wanted her just as fiercely as he wanted to rage at her.
“Then tell me, Casey,” she retorted, albeit breathlessly.
Her clit was aching with a swollen intensity she didn’t know if she could bear much longer. In turn, she could feel the clench and flushed arousal tightening her pussy as well as the heated, slick warmth easing through it.
Had she ever been this aroused by him?
She was certain she had never been this aroused in her life. For him or any other man. For anything or at any time.
His eyes were still blazing with fury, his expression twisted with it when she lifted her leg and let it slide up the outside of his.
The silk of her skirt slid back along her thighs, the rasp of his jeans against her sensitive inner thigh had her breath catching.
His gaze jerked down, locked on the pale flesh as her skirt slid back.
When his eyes came back to her, that rage was diluted, the smallest bit, with another fire. One of hunger and of lust.
“There’s not nothing, not a single friggin’ thing your father has that I want with the exception of his stubborn, wayward, completely intractable daughter.”
“Completely intractable?” Her hands pushed beneath the soft cotton of his shirt and touched the iron-hard abs beneath.
With just her nails, she stroked up his abdomen, being certain to find the flat, hard points of his male nipples.
His fingers wrapped immediately around her wrists, holding her in place.
“What the hell are you up to?”
Had she ever made the first move when it came to their sexual encounters? Casey knew she hadn’t. She’d always left that first step to him.
Until tonight.
Until this confrontation.
And now, she was simply hotter than hell. Hot enough to burn through his senses and make him almost, almost, forget the anger surging through him.
It was his pride. That sheer male core of the man that she had stabbed that dagger into. To dare to suggest that he wanted more than the woman he was holding in his arms was more than
he could countenance.
How could anything she or her father possessed or had access to be more important?
“I could get up to many things,” she whispered. “But at the moment, I’m more interested in what you’re up to.”
