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“Go ahead,” she wheezes, as tears of laughter streak down her cheeks. “Show Blake how not jealous you are. Show him how deeply you care about your prisoner.”
My mind is clouded with fury that this woman can work me into such a frenzy to the point I behave like a psycho.
“Here”—she tugs one side of her leggings down her legs—“I’ll help you.”
She manages to work her leggings and underwear down to her thigh, baring the smooth, creamy skin of her tight, rounded ass. “How’s this, my lo—”
I slam my hands onto the hood, caging her in by pressing the weight of my body against the back of hers. “Stop taunting me before I fuck you and mark your lover’s car with your orgasm.”
Her laughter seems to die with my anger, morphing into something far more dangerous.
“Go ahead,” she whispers. “Spank me. Punish me for speaking to another man.”
Our breathing quickens as I press my hard cock against her ass. “You weren’t just talking to him. You were asking for help.”
She shrugs from under me. “It doesn’t matter what I was doing. You wouldn’t believe me, anyway.”
She’s right, but I don’t think she wants verbal confirmation.
“You’re a man of proof, not my word. So, until I can prove my loyalty, you can think I was whispering sweet nothings into Blake’s ear and dreaming that it’s his cock pressed against me.”
And… she went too far.
Before I realize that I’ve moved, my palm stings against her warm skin, shutting her up with a loud smack.
“Say you love me,” I roar, unhinged. I couldn’t give more fucks if I had them. This woman makes me crazy enough not to care that I’m an assistant district attorney in the middle of a parking lot of a mediocre college, spanking my wife against a frat boy’s car, demanding she admit she loves me.
Maybe Shakespeare is right in believing love makes us killers because right now, all I want to do is kill Blake for giving my wife the upper hand by exposing my need for her.
“Say it, Reese!” My hand stings her ass again just as she moans.
“I love… Biscuit.”
Fuck her.
My palm comes down again. “Stop toying with me, dammit.”
She chuckles, twisting her head to look me in the eyes. “I’ll admit it if you do.”
I hate her. I absolutely fucking hate her.
“Say it, Van. Say it so the whole world understands what happens when Van Gogh loves.”
I could leave her here—let Blake deal with her annoying ass. Punishing her is too much like punishment for me.
“Tell me, Van. Tell me why I’m on Blake’s car with my ass feeling as if it’s on fire. Tell me—”
Fuck!
“Because I fucking love you!”
Reese
He loves me.
It’s not that I didn’t already know that, because please, what man stalks you, makes up some bullshit that you betrayed him, and punishes you by forcing you to be his wife?
A crazy man in love, that’s who.
