Page 37 of Heist in Paradise

Wordlessly, I nodded.

Jax leaned over me, his face so close that I felt his breath on my mouth. My own lips parted automatically. Heat licked up my spine, igniting more and more with each purposeful tug of my ponytail.

Then his lips brushed mine, voice soft and deadly. “You don’t have what it takes.”

And that, finally, made me snap.

JAX

Insanity looked good on her.

I knew it said something about my twisted mind when my cock twitched at her furious expression—that burning indignation in her eyes that promised bloodshed. I saw the hit coming. Hell, I hungered for it, craving the harsh slap of her palm across my face. My head whipped to the side, copper in my mouth.

Give me more.

She went soft instead, sinking into the chair in defeat. I didn’t like that. Her anger was perfect. It was important. Defeat wasn’t an option.

I wouldn’t let her give up on herself.

I gripped her ponytail, my apparent newest obsession, and used it to force her to her feet. She cried out in pain, clawing at my wrist. But her fury returned.

Good.

I could take her anger. I could take whatever she gave me, so long as she didn’t turn it on herself. It was a slippery slope, how easily helplessness turned into self-loathing.

“Let me go!” she snarled, her nails digging into my flesh. “I’m not your fucking puppet to pull around.”

“Make me.”

Her anger flared, then simmered into a new expression. I searched it curiously, then grinned when I realized what it was: determination. A shiver actually went down my spine when she spoke in a cold whisper: “I warned you not to touch me like this again.”

I tightened my fist. “I’m a slow learner.”

With that, she twisted in my grip and kicked me straight in the guts. I doubled over with a groan. For a pint-sized beauty queen, she packed a surprising punch.

I didn’t try to defend myself. It was too much fun.

My cheerleader let loose on me, an eruption of everything she’d been holding back. She punched, kicked, and scratched. She thrust her knee into my balls. She fought hard and dirty, and I was fucking impressed.

And so turned on, it made me dizzy.

“Come on,” I egged her on, shoving aside a chair when it became an obstacle between us. “That all you got, princess? Here, I won’t even move.”

I planted my feet and spread my arms.

She pounced at me like a feral cat, not purring but hissing and seething and going for blood. She busted my lip and gauged my shoulder. Between one punch and the next, I hooked my hands under her knees and lifted her up against me. Her legs snapped around my waist automatically. I stepped forward and pinned her down against the table. She clawed at my back, but it was futile—she was mine.

After a few beats, she stilled. We stayed like that, pressed together, breathing heavily.

“I hate you,” she seethed, sweat glistening on her neck and chest. Then she went limp, not in defeat, not anymore, but in pure exhaustion. Her head thumped against my shoulder, nails loosening on my back. “You didn’t even try to stop me.”

“Feel better?”

“Not really. Feels like I just went three rounds against a tree.”

I adjusted her slightly, accidentally brushing her against my erection. She went stiff in shock, then reared back and stared at me with wide, incredulous eyes. “Seriously? This?”

I smirked unapologetically. “What? You’re not even a little bit turned on?”