Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,25

back against the cold window. “You’re having a hard time understanding the roles here, so I’ll make it clear for you.” He brushes his nose through my hair. “You don’t know me, and you’re not going to know me. From this point forward, you’ll do what I say with a great deal more respect than you’ve shown me so far.”

“I don’t know about that last part, but I do know you.” I slide my fingers beneath the lapel of his suit jacket.

“Is that right?” He doesn’t push my hand away and instead rests his weight on an arm braced against the window above my head, his mouth inches from mine.

“Yep.” I tilt my chin up to meet his arctic eyes. “You don’t date or do relationships. You fuck. Then you send them home with a pat on the ass.”

He scowls in a way only he can make look indecent.

“You exude intimidation and upper-class superiority,” I say, “because you want everyone to think you’re aloof and untouchable. And maybe you are.” I push against the rigid wall of his chest. “But being aloof and untouchable is kind of like being an asshole, and that’s not a special trait. The world is overrun with assholes. You don’t have to be smart or wealthy or good-looking to join that club.”

His gaze narrows, cutting like blue lasers. “I know you, too, Danni Angelo.”

“Oh yeah?” I feather my fingers down the buttons of his shirt. “Do tell.”

His eyes follow the movement, one blond brow arrogantly arched. “The only thing you hate more than an asshole is a guy who isn’t an asshole.”

I flatten my spine against the window. “That’s not—”

“Sensitive guys bore you, and their flattery gets them nowhere. Assholes make your pulse race and your panties wet, especially when they tell you when, where, and how hard.”

Heat coalesces between my legs, and my molars crash together. Damn him.

“You’re the kind of dish that looks enticing, smells delicious, and tastes even better.” He gives me a chilly once-over bristling with judgment. “But after a few bites, it festers in the gut like a bad decision.”

An abrasive breath lodges in my throat, and my face tightens. “What’s the matter, Mr. Savoy? Too scared to sample something deep and stimulating for a change?”

He smirks, and I don’t like the satisfied glimmer in his eyes. I slip out of the confined space between him and the window, seeking distance.

“You’re messy.” He glares at my hand where I twist the silver band on my right finger.

I drop my arms to my sides as outrage spikes through my blood. “I’m not—”

“I could fuck you right now, right here, and give you more pleasure than the son of a bitch who gave you that ring.” His arm snaps up, and his hand wraps around my throat.

How dare he insult Cole and manhandle me like this? I should rage at him, but as my heartbeat jumps against the fist shackling my neck, my entire body throbs erratically, excitedly, wantonly.

“Tease,” I choke out.

He uses his grip to force me backwards until the edge of his desk hits my legs. “Doesn’t matter how hard I make you come, you’ll go home and cry yourself to sleep over the man you’re still in love with.” He releases me and straightens. “You’re an emotional mess, and I don’t want any part of it.”

Anger flares, burning up my cheeks.

“I’m human.” I lurch toward him and shove at his chest. “A feeling, passionate, warm-blooded human, you callous prick.”

He allows me to push at him, his expression volcanic and breaths coming hot and fast, steeping the air between us.

If he doesn’t want any part of it, why did he demand I come here and take this job? His mixed signals are maddening.

“I don’t understand what you want.” I spin away and move to the desk where the contract waits. “I’ll do the job under the negotiated terms, but I’m not signing anything.”

I don’t hear him approach as the scorching proximity of his body envelops my back. He brushes my hair to the side, and his fingers glide with diabolical pressure over my nape, around my throat, stretching toward my breastbone and slipping beneath the neck of the shirt as his thumb strokes the base of my skull. Then his breath is there, a furnace of seduction tickling my ear and racing shivers across my skin.

“I want to watch your body move.” His mouth grazes my bare shoulder. “Five nights a week. In my casino.”

Watching you dance… It evokes feelings