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He blinks slowly. “Wow, Abby, your ability to sound dirty has gone up exponentially.”
“Not as much as my anger has.” I walk on my knees to the edge of the bed, once more noting with satisfaction that his gaze is locked on how my breasts jiggle with every step. Men! I swing my legs over, then march over to him and stab him in his chest. “Don’t you dare turn what happened between us into something it’s not.”
“Ah, I thought you were the one doing that.”
“Jesus!” I throw my hands up. “You seriously can’t be doing the stereotypical guy thing of turning tail and running when the four-letter word is mentioned.”
“Hey, I love four-letter words. In fact, I am all for four-letter words that begin with F and—"
“Stop!” I hold up my palm in his direction. And he must see something in my eyes that he lets me get away with giving him an order.Twathorse!“You know which four-letter word I’m talking about. Don’t pretend you don’t. I’m not buying it.”
He draws in a breath and releases it. And damn, but it swells that gorgeous, sculpted chest of his and draws attention to how lean his waist is, and all of it sets off that heavy cock of his—which, incidentally, is still standing upright against his lower belly. Motherducking hell! I swoop out and wrap my fingers about said cock, and a groan spills from his lips. “Ah, baby, that feels so good.”
“Does it, baby?” I lower my head and take him in, all the way in, down my throat.
He gasps, then holds my hair back from my face, no doubt, wanting to see his beautiful, monster dick disappearing inside my mouth. I sweep my tongue up the bottom of his shaft, and he moans. I drag my teeth across the tender skin over the crown, and every muscle in his body seems to tighten. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I pull back so quickly, his fucking, stunning cock falls out with a sucking sound. “No, fuck you,baby.”
I rise to my feet, then snatch up my torn sleep shirt from the bed. I shrug into it anyway, allowing the ends to gape in the front, before stepping into my sleep shorts.
“What are you doing?” he growls.
I don’t answer. I brush past him and head for the doorway.
“Abby, the fuck you think you’re going?”
I huff, reach the door, and twist it open.
“Abby, stop.”
I do.
I fucking stop, with my foot raised over the threshold, then force myself to place it down on the other side of the entrance. There, that feels good. I went against the alphahole’s order.He doesn’t hold any power over me anymore—if I say that often enough, hopefully, I’ll be able to convince myself, eh?
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?” I glance at him over his shoulder. “What’s there left to say?”
“Our engagement.”
“Our what?”
“Our fake engagement. We’re going to get married—not for real, of course—"
“Of course,” I snap.
His lips twitch. “There’s my girl.”
“I’m not your girl.”
“You’re right, soon you’ll be my fiancée—fake fiancée.” He hastens to correct himself. Because of course, the thought of getting married for real or having a relationship that is genuine is anathema for this jerkhole.
“And if I refuse?” I tip up my chin.
“You won’t.”
“Oh?”
