Page 24 of Up In Flames

But I’ve never been very coordinated, so each time I lash out with my foot, I lose some of my balance. When I back up and take a breath, for the first time, I consider doing him serious harm. Because I’m five and a half feet tall, nearly, and his dick is right in front of my mouth. Nearly.

He must read my expression because he says softly, “Pound me all you like, but if you bite, I might just bite back.” And he smiles, a long, slow grin, before angling his head and opening his mouth wide so that I can see he has a double row of teeth.

He has two rows of teeth. And they look sharp.

I just gape at him.

When he snaps his lips back shut, he murmurs, “Behave, Nina. Be an adult, or pretend, anyway.”

And that’s it. I wind my fist way back, and with the last of my strength, I punch hard, right into his gut.

“Owww!” I scream, pain radiating up my arm and down to the rest of me. “Fuck!”

My long-suffering giant-of-an-enemy sighs. “Let me see.” He holds out his hand for mine, but when I just clutch my injured fingers closer to me, tears streaming from the pain, he clicks his tongue against those double row of teeth. “Let. Me. See. I’ve got medical training.”

And suddenly I’m so tired, so fed up, so lost, I’m sobbing.

What’s wrong with me? Why am I acting like this? I don’t understand how he’s gotten under my skin again and made me embarrass myself. Again. Why is he that he brings out all the worst parts of me?

I’m shaking my head no, but I extend my hand to him all the same. With the gentlest of touches, he tests my bones and muscles before his enormous hands slip up my arms. In the next second, I’m lifted against him, cuddled to his wide chest.

“Wrap your legs around my waist.”

So I do. My arms stretch around his neck as he repositions his hands. Instead of looking down from a terrible height, I close my eyes and bury my face into him.

Déjà vu, except this time he’s carrying me in a different position. This time, his hands are nowhere near my pussy.

After jiggling the door open, he marches back to the living room. “Injury, Nicholas. I need you to call your mom and have her come pick you up, okay?”

“What happened?” The little boy jumps up from the floor and runs over to us as Sampson places me on the couch. “I heard Nina yelling.”

“She saw a roach. You know how women are. Then she banged her hand against a hard surface. She’ll be okay, but she needs to rest, and I’m going to have to bandage her.”

“No more typing, I guess. Her agent is going to be mad. She’s on a deadline. Oh, hey, Nina, you can use mom’s old dicta-tape thing. I bet that will work.” He perks up even as he sends a quick text to Mari. “Oh, she’s not too far. She’s just finished her interview. She should be here in a few minutes.”

And I don’t know whether I want her to come pick up my human shield or not, because I could leave with them, yes, but then…

Then I wouldn’t be with Sampson, whom I don’t want to be with, except I can’t seem to want to leave him, either.

When he draws a cashmere blanket over me, one that’s so large I could be covered twice, I sigh. Definitely a woman lives here.

And nope, I don’t want to leave.

Maybe it really is time for answers.

CHAPTER 8

Sampson

Mari picks up Nicholas, a knowing look in her eyes when she glances over me before turning to Nina. “My second interview went well. Thanks for taking Nicholas. We’ll check in on Mr. Mittens. Don’t hurry home.”

I roll my eyes at her misunderstanding of the situation, but I have to admit, I’ve got live wires sparking inside me. Still, after she and Nicholas have gone, I retreat to the kitchen to settle myself. I even manage to pour white wine without crushing the bottle, which is a personal best given how wound up I am.

Nina punching me is one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced. Her emotions ran so high, I think I caught them. Or my dick did.

At the last minute, I change the glassware out for smaller stemware. Alcohol of any sort doesn’t affect me, or at least, I’ve never drunk enough to find out if there might be a limit, but I don’t want Nina feeling woozy. I want her with all her senses intact, so that whatever happens between us is purely consensual.

Fine. Maybe wishful thinking, but it feels as if something is going to go down between us. There’s a sense of an impending storm in the atmosphere that has less to do with how she laid into me, and everything to do with how she clutched onto me while I carried her.