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I purse my lips as I watch him, hating that he’s so tender with Angel when he’s been progressively more aggressive with me.
Not that my dick cares. It seems to like his aggression.
And you do too.
“You didn’t need to rush me,” I bite out.
He doesn’t respond, just sticks that phone into the back pocket of his jeans, and I can’t help but ogle it. Those buns are round and plump. They’re so unlike mine which are flat and basically nonexistent, like a pita, where his are like nice buttery biscuits.
I could slather them in cranberry sauce and say I’m at Thanksgiving.
Maybe I could be the turkey, and he could stuff me full.
I shake my head, my thoughts going in a direction that I dare not entertain. I’m not attracted to Skylar. I’m repulsed by his size and the fact that he works for my father, despite my dick shaking his head and disagreeing vehemently.
Skylar is the reason I’m stuck in this cabin in the middle of nowhere.
“Do we have dessert?” I ask and rummage through the freezer. Of course there’s nothing there. Skylar looks like he doesn’t enjoy sweets. Chocolate is definitely not a staple for him. Not with muscles like that. He probably lives off of boiled chicken and broccoli. What a sad, sad life.
“There are some candy bars in the fridge.”
I peek over at him. “What kind?”
“The kind you like.”
I waste no time wrenching the door open and pulling out a giant Toblerone. I clutch it to my chest in glee.
Oh, thank fuck for this, I think as I open the package and shove a piece into my mouth. Chocolate dribbles out and hangs on my lips, but I don’t even wipe it away. I just revel in it. What a fucking day this has been. I needed this.
“No need to thank me,” Skylar says, and I freeze mid-chew.
“I wasn’t going to. You work for me remember?”
I rub that little fact in, pretending like I own him when in reality, I don’t. My dad does. I’m just a bothersome piece of baggage.
His jaw works back and forth, and then he turns away from me, not giving me what I want. I’m itching for a fight. God, I feel out of control right now. Like chaos.
Even the chocolate is only a momentary distraction.
I want to smash my aggression out, want to distract myself before I go crazy. But I can’t do anything but sit inside these claustrophobic walls and wait. And it’s all my own doing. I should have known better than to go after Elio. But I had to do it. My father couldn’t ask me not to.
He should know me better.
Why do you always insist on getting into trouble?
Those words…I’ve heard them all my goddamn life.
I happen to like trouble. And it seems to like me.
My dad was not impressed with my response. Not now and not then either.
“I’m going outside,” I mutter and move toward the front door, needing some fresh air, but before I can step foot outside, Skylar’s on me, those big hands on my hips pulling me against him.
“No.”
I squirm against him, my elbows jutting back, connecting with his stomach. But he doesn’t even grunt. He just lets me pummel him until I’m exhausted. I should really work out more often. Should have taken my dad up on the personal trainer he offered me.
I’d told him I’d rather hone other skills. Now I’m regretting my decision.
