Page 22 of Falling for the Enemy

“Not too fast.” He pulled away the glass and carefully set it aside.

She slouched and grumbled, “Why are you being nice right now?”

“I am nice. You just tend to miss the signs through all your bitchiness.” He peeled her stained sweater up over her head and stilled.

She looked down at her bra and back to him. “What?”

His stare jumped from the lace cups to her face, and his jaw ticked. “Here.” He held out the shirt and turned away.

She didn’t take it. Instead, she unhooked the clasp between her breasts, and the bra parted. “Oops.”

He glanced back then quickly averted his gaze. “Jocelyn.”

“What?”

He refused to look at her. “Take the shirt.”

She pulled the bra off and threw it at his head.

Soren glanced down and cursed. His hand clenched around the T-shirt. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Whah my doing?”

“You’re drunk,” he said, with mounting frustration.

“Facts.”

“This isn’t funny.” He turned with stern disapproval, trying hard to look anywhere but at her tits. He opened the shirt, aiming for her head, but she batted it away.

“Jocelyn!” he snapped. “You’re making this more difficult than it has to be.”

“No, you are.” She pushed her socked foot against his chest, and arched back, her arms falling above her head.

He stilled for so long she’d once thought the recording had glitched, but the footage was fine. It was Soren who froze.

He threw the shirt over her bare chest. “Knock it off.”

She flung the cotton away. “Maybe I don’t wanna.”

That was when it happened. A split-second shift, nothing more. He meant to catch the shirt, but accidentally grazed her skin and froze. He’d tried to do the right thing, but her confession pushed him beyond his limit. His hand flattened, lingering on her lower belly.

She hummed as her knees fell open in invitation.

His voice dropped to a dry rasp. “This what you want.” He dragged his hand slowly down her thigh, as if challenging her bluff.

“Not quite.”

“I knew it—” Before he could pull away, she caught his hand and pushed it inside her panties. “Jesus, Joce.” He jerked back as if she’d burned him. But the line was crossed.

She hooked her thumbs into the lace and shimmied her panties lower. “Come on, CEO Barbie. Show me what you got.”

His jaw twitched, and he shoved her shoulder to the ground, as if he wanted to strangle her. But he didn’t. He didn’t yell at her either.

Instead, his voice turned raw. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Mm-hm. Very sure—” Her breath hitched as he shoved his finger inside of her, breaching her before she could call back her words. Her lips parted in shock. She still couldn’t believe he actually crossed that line.

Then a slow, wicked grin curled her mouth, and she rolled her hips into his touch as if to say, game on.