Page 59 of Carnal Wagers

“What?”

“To make you think you’re in control.”

“Aren’t I?” His hand wrapped around the front of my neck and squeezed, not enough to cut off my air, but enough to say he was the dominant party. In his dreams. “I could kill you right now, and nobody would bat an eye.”

“Or you could show me a good time. Without your teeth, of course.”

His lips parted, and his eyes screwed up. “Aye, you’re as mad as a box of frogs, but then I should have guessed that already.”

“You like it.”

He grunted. “Well, you wanted my attention. You have it. Now the question is, what are you going to do with it?”

“Simple. I’m going to wrap you around my little finger.”

“Unlikely.”

“We can bet on it.” I winked at him. “I’ll either be the best thing that will ever happen to you or the devil who will drag you down. Which do you think it will be?”

The rumble of engines and cheering cut through his mysterious and deadly focus. A sudden influx of burnt rubber and gasoline fumes collided with the sharp reek of burnt oil. I fanned my face. A few cars ambled down the lot toward the main street. Spectators drummed on the hoods and roofs as they passed, the ruckus competing with those revving their cars. With this noise, it was just a matter of time before the cops showed up.

I patted his shirt. “You better get ready and get out there.”

His eyes dipped to my mouth, with a look that was not quite contempt, not really desire…more like an odd fascination. It reminded me how art aficionados viewed a particularly moving painting in a gallery, like it spoke to them, and they needed to catch their fill before they were forced to move on to the next.

“What do you see when you look at me?” I dared to ask.

His silence was striking against the cheering and vroom of engines, and it pummeled my stubbornly sensitive heart. The stupid thing needed another reminder of what kind of man the closed-off prick I married was.

“That bad, huh?”

I was deluding myself with this charade. Every effort for his attention felt like shoving a boulder up a hill with a sprained ankle. Exhausting and so much painful effort, for little to no reward. It wasn’t worth that kiss, no matter how spellbinding it had been, because tonight, despite all the effort I’d put in up until now, I felt myself slipping. It was time to go and regroup before I failed, and I never failed. It just wasn’t in my DNA.

I dropped my weight, making his grip slacken, and twisted my body to the side while hooking my opposite arm over his. It broke his hold completely, and when he reached for me again, I jabbed a fist at his ribs. I made the rules of this game. Not him.

“Not tonight, mari chéri.” Husband dearest. I blew him a kiss, backing away from him and the car.

“Not got the guts to see this through, sweetheart?”

“Don’t care enough to.”

That got me a laugh, deep and throaty, unnaturally so. He crossed his arms, that impenetrable stare fixed solely on my retreating steps.

“I never got your name.”

“I never gave it.”

“Didn’t peg you as a tease.”

I shrugged against the menace in his voice. “Yes, you did.”

He pushed off his car, but instead of coming after me, he walked to his car door. And that was when I booked it. I crossed the lot with hurried steps toward the grassy area beyond the asphalt.

He’d be even less thrilled in a few short seconds when he discovered the delightful change Erel made to his car interior.

When his reaction came, it wasn’t the explosive anger I expected, or even the evil cackle I’d hoped would expose some shred of humor in him. Instead, it was a ruthless laugh, restrained in volume but oppressive, seeping into the tension in my shoulders.

“You can run, but you can’t hide,” he yelled.