Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,15
away in case I need it. “I slept.” There goes my mouth again.
I see a spark of amusement in his eyes, but it dies very quickly as he assesses me. I have no idea what he sees, but he’s frightening, and having his full attention makes me want to flee.
“We have to make this work, Emma.” He starts, and my name on his lips makes my stomach squirm for all the wrong reasons. It sparks an anger inside me that’s reserved for my own stupid thoughts. My only defense is that I’ve never been around a man before, and not a man that looks like he does.
“Can we agree to try to make this work?” He’s nodding at me like the movement will have me agreeing.
I have no intentions of making this work, even if I have to constantly remind myself that he is the enemy. “Of course.”
“Then go shower and get changed.” His head is higher. He’s daring me to say no. I did, after all, just agree that we could make this work. But the stubborn part of me, that’s as thick as a mule going backward through a hedge— Noel’s words make me grin as they cloud the rational part of my brain and the stubbornness takes control.
“I’m fine.”
His lip rises again, and this time, when he grins, I know I’ve really pissed him off.
CHAPTER SIX
SHAY
She’s fiery, and she seems different this morning. I can see interest in her eyes when she looks at me, and that look makes her appear older. She no longer appears so child-like. I’m trying to picture her out of that fucking Irish dancing dress. I can’t see her properly with it on. It swallows her, hiding the truth that she is, in fact, a woman. Yet, her green eyes hold an innocence that tempts me. Right behind it, I see intelligence; she’s analyzing things. But most of all, right now, she’s pissing me off to no end. She needs to learn who's King here.
I grin at her, and her earlier smugness dies as I leave the kitchen and make my way upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. All her luggage is piled up in the middle of the floor where she left it last night. I grab the first one and open the bedroom window.
If she won’t get changed, then she has no use for her clothes.
I hear her footfalls on the stairs and lob one of her bags out the window. It sails down two stories and explodes on the front drive. It’s a mass of colors and fabric. It gives me some satisfaction as I return and pick up another. She steps into the room cautiously. Her hands grip the door frame as her wide eyes jump from her luggage to the window. I grin at her again as I fire the second one out the window.
She releases the door and marches into the room. “That’s my stuff.” Her voice rises. My cock grows hard. My reaction to her catches me by surprise. I didn’t feel it last night, so why now?
I pause for a second and stare at her, confused by my reaction. It’s the fire in her eyes that calls to me. I want to see them blaze. “Really?” I ask as I pick up the third one. She’s moving toward me, and I stop my advance to the window. She pauses, looking unsure now. She reads the warning in my eyes and doesn’t dare try to stop me as I fire her bag out the window. Her face turns as red as her hair. She folds her arms across her small chest. I walk around her and pick up the final bag. She’s moving again but pauses as I stand at the window and hold the bag high in the air. My cock rubs against my jeans, and I don’t hide the want as I trail my gaze along her body. “Are you going to get showered and changed?”
Her nostrils flare as confusion widens those green eyes. The fight is back in her, and before she can answer, I let her bag sail towards the pavement, where it explodes. I’m assessing her outfits. Dresses. All dresses. Irish fucking dancing dresses. I close the window and turn to Emma.
“I’m glad I didn’t bring Lady with me.” If she could breathe fire, I’m sure we would all be charred right now.