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I don’t reply. Instead, I watch him, stupefied, as he hammers another nail into wood and splinters it. “Fucking IKEA,” he mutters under his breath, giving the plank a kick with his shiny leather wingtip. “You people have whole houses filled with this shit, you know?”
No, I don’t know. I don’t know whoyou peopleare, what he’s building, or what the fuck is going on. The tension swells in my chest and bubbles up my throat, before slipping past my lips in a much less sophisticated way than I had planned.
“What is this?” I blurt out.
He raises a brow. “A bookshelf.”
His answer catches me off guard.A bookshelf? From IKEA? Aren’t those built with those little wrenches?Okay, maybe he really haslost the plot.
I shake off the thought and scramble to get back on track.
“No,us.”
His hammer pauses mid-air, eyes tracking my hand as it darts back and forth.Me and him, him and me.His expression conveys I’m ridiculous for lumping us together in this way.
The nextcracktenses my spine, and he slips another nail into his mouth to conceal his smirk.
“You’re staying here for a while.”
“Yeah, butwhy?”
He picks up a pamphlet from his desk and holds it up by the window. “You don’t happen to read Swedish, do you?”
I grit my teeth. “Tell mewhy,Raph—”
“Because I said so,” he growls back.
The sudden venom in his tone sweeps away my next breath. I suck in a lungful of air to steady myself, and roll my shoulders back, refusing to crumble.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I say slowly. “You hate me.”
There’s a bitter edge to his laugh. “That’s what you think, huh?”
My cheeks warm. “You think I’m unlucky, at least. Why would you want to be stuck on a boat with someone who’s bad for you?”
He glances up at me, indifference masking the chiseled planes of his face again. “You eat burgers.”
I frown. “What’s my diet have to do with anything?”
Crack.“You eat burgers, although you know they’re bad for you. It’s the same thing, Queenie. You’re bad for me—” his stare carves a hot path down the front of my hoodie-clad chest, lands on the hemline, then he licks his lips “—but I still want to eat you.”
Jesus Christ.There’s something about the way his silky voice sharpens on the wordeatthat sends an electric thrill through my lower core.
I dig my heels into the plush carpet and try to focus on Matt’s three tips, but they’re starting to grow hazy behind my eyelids.What order were they in again?
Another crack of the hammer splinters the corner of the wood again. He frowns, looking down at the tool in his hand, like there’s something wrong with it rather than the ridiculous amount of force he’s putting behind each blow.
I open my mouth to protest, but nothing aside from hot air comes out of it. This was nothow I thought this conversation was going to go. I thought I’d sail in here, lay down my terms and conditions to this arrangement, and then after a little negotiation, maybe, just maybe,I’d get fucked again over a soft surface and under cleared air.
Now, I’m not so sure it’d even be ethical to have sex with him at all, because he’s clearly lost his mind. I’m about to tell him so when his cell buzzes against the desk, cutting me off.
“Yeah?” He glances at his watch. “Fine. Have the jet ready to go in an hour.”
A sour taste rises to my tongue, and suddenly, I realize I could have got this all wrong.He’s leaving?
He hangs up and glances over at me, irritation flecking his green eyes. “Problem?”
I stare at him. He really plans on leaving me on this boat while he flits off on a jet? Maybe I should have double-checked with Matt what enemies-with-benefits actually means, because my vision of steamed-up portholes and violent orgasms has just gonepoof.
