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Right below my breasts.
His thumb dragged lightly—so lightly—over the underside of my breast. “The next man who touches you forfeits his life, Brynlee.”
“Including you?”
“No. You belong to me.”
“I belong tomyself.”
His thumb brushed the underside of my breast again, a little harder, as if that was punishment. “Agree to disagree again.”
Argh.
He was infuriating.
And I still needed to steal his phone.
Which meant continuing the distraction.
“What if he buys me flowers first, Dash? You know flowers mean a guy is serious.”
“He can buy you as many flowers as you want; he’s not getting through my front door, or touching your skin.”
I slipped his phone out of his hand. “I’ll make a note of that. Only have sex on the porch, and only let him touch me through my clothes.”
He growled at me, his hands landing on my hips and gripping hard.
I looked down at his phone, finding an almost-finished email on the screen.
It had the address of a property—which I had to believe was Sweet Dreams—and an instruction to acquire it by any means necessary.
I deleted the draft, and started to slip the phone into my bra before I realized I wasn’t wearing one.
Crap.
Sebastian’s eyebrows were raised when I looked back up at him, his phone halfway inside my shirt. “What are you doing now?”
“Preventingyoufrom destroying a small business.” I poked him in the chest, pulling his phone away from my boobs and tucking it behind my back. “I didn’t tell you about Cindy so you could fix the problem. Not everything needs to be fixed. I told you so you would understand why you needed to talk to your brother.”
“Thisissue clearly needs fixing.” He reached behind my back, and I stepped away quickly.
He stepped after me.
I took another step, turning myself so my back faced out of the kitchen.
He followed.
And kept following me—until my butt met the ledge of the kitchen table.
An “oof” escaped me at the contact.
His sharp-edged, modern furniture was a pain in my ass. Literally.
“I’m dealing with it,” he said, leaning against me as he reached around my back.
I made one ridiculous, insane, last-ditch attempt—and stuck the phone beneath the strap of my thong.
His fingers brushed the lace, then stilled.
