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His hands slid up the insides of her thighs, then moved from her butt to her waist. When he was satisfied, he led her from the garage. “Let’s go.”
“Look, Coop . . . I understand you’re pissed, and I don’t blame—”
“Oh, no. I’m not pissed. I’m way beyond pissed.” He clasped her upper arm again, not hurting her, but holding her in a lock she’d have trouble breaking.
They were ins
ide his condo much too soon, but now that he had her there, he didn’t seem certain what to do with her. A perfect time to make a dash toward the kitchen. “Hungry? I’ll fix you an omelet.”
“I’m not hungry,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m trying to decide whether I want to do this rough or easy.”
She held up her hand. “I vote for easy.”
“You don’t have a vote.” He tossed his suede jacket over the back of the couch. “So I’m clear . . . You started the fight, right?”
“Technically.”
“Technically?”
“We have a history, but—”
“And you decided the best way to handle that history was to go after a former Clemson linebacker in the alley? Do I have that right?”
“If you give a bully an inch . . .”
“That’s only true when you’re twelve!”
Before she could concede his point, he stalked toward her. “If you had problems with Jonah, you should have come to me.”
Suddenly, she was as hot as he. “I handle my own problems.”
“By damn, not any longer. I’m either going to fire your ass or . . . or . . .” He seemed to be having difficulty coming up with something more dire, even though getting fired was at the top of her personal dire list. “Or . . . spank it.”
“You’re not serious.”
He actually seemed to ponder. “Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “I guess I am.” One of his long arms whipped out, snaked her waist, lifted her off her feet, and dragged her to the couch. Seconds later, he turned her upside down over his lap.
She blinked.
His palm came down hard on the fleshiest part of her rear. All the blood rushed to her head. “Ow! Oh, my god! You are kidding me!”
Another smack. “Does this feel like I’m kidding?” Whack.
“It feels like you’ve lost your mind.”
“Never felt saner.” Whack. Whack.
“This is wrong in so many ways. I don’t even know where to start. Ouch! Yes, I do know! I’m calling my lawyer.”
“You don’t have a lawyer.” Another smack. “Besides, don’t you read? Rough sex is the rage these days.”
“Only between consenting adults! Stop it! Do I look like I’m consenting?”
“If you weren’t, I’d be on my ass right now.”
True. She was hardly helpless. She let another smack land, then gritted her teeth. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You worry about yourself.”
