“No, you’re trying to corner me and accuse me of being jealous.”
I get it. She’s insecure because I’ve done nothing to reassure her. She doesn’t know where I stand with her, which is fair enough. And now Valencia’s words have rattled her.
“Whatever Valencia told you doesn’t matter,” I say carefully.
“Well, to her it does,” Jessica snaps. “Because she still acts like she has a shot. So which one is it? Is she delusional or are you a liar? Because she made me feel like I lost you before I ever even had you—”
Jessica freezes and the silence that follows is enormous. The words escaped her without permission.
“Have me?” My lips twitch before I can school them. “You wanna have me, Jessica?” A smirk spreads across my face.
Her whole face twists in anger. “Stop smiling like that!” she yells. “You’re impossible!”
I take one slow step toward her, then another. “Yeah?” I murmur. “What else am I?”
“Don’t.” She backs up a fraction.
“Jealous?” I take another step with each word. “Possessive?” I lower my voice. “Yours?” I keep walking slowly.
Jessica’s eyes widen, furious. “Stop walking toward me,” she snaps, breathless.
When I keep walking, she steps toward me and presses both palms flat against my chest, trying to halt me.
It’s cute and hopeless. The pressure of her hands only tightens the heat twisting through my stomach.
“Stop.”
I keep walking until her arms lock straight, braced and trembling from holding me back. “I swear to God, if you don’t back off, I’ll slap you again.” She glares up at me.
My smirk grows. “Do it,” I murmur. “Slap me.”
She’s breathing heavily, eyes flicking to her palms and back to my face. “Hit me,” I taunt softly. “If it’ll make you feel better.”
Her nostrils flare and she pushes off me with a huff. “You’re not even worth a slap.”
I’m smiling when she tries to push past me. Not happening. My hand snaps to her waist, the other to her face. My fingers slide along her jaw, angling her chin up. She gasps, but I’m already pulling her back into me.
Her balled-up hands slam into my chest, and her lips part to say something. I cut her off before she gets the chance, covering her mouth with mine.
I kiss her with all the heat and anger I’ve built up. Tasting her again feels like fucking heaven.
She shoves at me, fists pounding. She whimpers into my mouth.
I don’t let go. I kiss her deeper. She makes a strangled sound against my mouth—somewhere between outrage and need.
Her hands fist in my shirt and she pulls me closer this time.
My hands are everywhere, sliding down her neck, her waist, then lower until one slides between her thighs, cupping her through the fabric of her dress.
Fuck. Me.
She breaks on a moan, a sound that shoots down my spine and coils low in my stomach. Her body arches into my touch, and that’s all it takes.
My cock throbs so hard it hurts. My breath comes ragged against her mouth.
Her fingers curl in my shirt, and her mouth opens under mine, inviting me in. My tongue slides in, and her lips part wider. Our tongues tangle for a few blissful seconds before she pulls back and bites my bottom lip.
Sharp pain tears into my lower lip and the next thing I taste is blood.
