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My backside hits the chair, and I blink. What the—? Did I just follow his order? Did I obey him, without intending to? When was the last time that happened? When has that ever happened as an adult? No man has ever dared to command me to do his bidding. I’ve never followed someone else’s orders. Not like this. Not in my personal life. Even worse, I don’t feel guilty about it.
I feel queasy, like I’ve stepped off a cliff, and instead of falling, I’m being pulled higher in the air, and I’m waiting for my stomach to catch up with the rest of my body. My blood begins to pump harder through my veins. The pulse between my legs becomes thicker, harder, stronger. And all because he directed my actions. This…is...insane. I feel so out of my depth. Like someone has cut off the cords that ground me and now I’m floating…floating.
I draw in a deep breath, then another. Draw on an ember of anger low in my belly. I fan it until it spreads through my stomach, my blood, my arms. I reach for the glass of champagne and toss it in his face.
4
Hunter
One second, we’re engaged in that now familiar battle of wills, where our gazes are clashing and holding, and neither of us is ready to back down. The thrill of the chase unfurls in my chest. My blood begins to thump through my veins. My vision narrows. Adrenaline laces my blood, but before I can act, she’s thrown the champagne in my face. The liquid stings my eyes, drips down my cheeks, and I react on pure instinct. I jump to my feet, lean forward and grab her arm before she can withdraw it.
"Let me go," she snaps.
"No."
I tighten my grip on her wrist and the empty champagne flute slips from her fingers. It hits the table with a soft thud and rolls once, then stills.
"You shouldn’t have done that," I say slowly.
"You deserved it," she spits at me.
"You’re gorgeous."
She stills. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You’re magnificent when you’re angry. Your eyes flash fire. Your cheeks turn a gorgeous color that makes me want to close the distance between us and lick you up."
She shakes her head. "Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming that I’m in this restaurant with one of the people I hate the most holding my hand."
"Hate fuck. Think of how explosive it will be when we come together."
"Keep dreaming." She tosses her hair back from her face.
"It can be a reality, Z."
"Don’t call me that."
"I feel like we’ve blown past the preliminary part of our relationship already."
She raises the forefinger of her left hand. "One. There is no relationship. And two" —she holds up her middle finger— "you can go fuck yourself." She lowers her forefinger and keeps only her middle finger upright.
"There she is. You turn me on when you get enraged."
"Didn’t you listen to me?" She thrusts her middle finger forward. "I want nothing to do with you."
"And I want everything you can give me." I grab her free hand and pull so we’re both stretched across the table with our faces so close our noses almost bump. I bring her outstretched middle finger to my mouth and close my lips around it.
She draws in a sharp breath and her pupils dilate. Those golden-brown sparks in her eyes glitter until they lighten to silver shards. I curl my tongue around her digit and suck harder.
A moan bleeds from her lips. The taste of her floods my mouth, sinks into my blood. My groin hardens. The crotch of my pants tightens. She lowers her gaze to my mouth and swallows. Her lips part. The scent of her, orange blossoms and vanilla with a hint of pepper, floods my senses.
She leans in closer, until our eyelashes tangle. She raises her gaze to mine, and lust flares in the depths of her eyes.
The blood beats in my ears, and goddamn, I want to kiss her. And I will... Just not yet. First, I need to tease her, taunt her, seduce her… Perhaps, court her. Coax her, so she comes willingly. Here, kitty, kitty.
"Maybe next time." I release her so suddenly, she falls back into her chair.
"What the—?" She gapes at me.
