“I’m sure you are.” I gritted my teeth and started ripping the sheet from the bed when he tugged it back, causing me to fall across his lap.
His eyes were dancing with humor. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
“Well…” I pouted and looked away. “You’re…mean.”
His eyebrows shot up. “That all you got? I almost feel bad now…”
I glared. “Stop holding me hostage before I scream.”
“Just like you were last night?”
My body went from cold and irritated to searing hot in one point two seconds. “I was drunk.”
“Not that drunk.” He bopped my nose.
Killing him.
I was going to kill him!
I lunged, only to have him move to the side so I nearly fell off the bed. He caught my arm, twisted me toward him then pressed an impressive kiss across my mouth. “There, isn’t that better?”
“That’s the equivalent of patting me on the head and saying ‘there, there,’ you condescending prick!”
“Oh honey, a nickname? This early? I’m touched.” He patted my damn head again.
“Mark!” I yelled.
He grinned. “See, knew you’d yell it again.”
I was going to scream.
Probably would have, but both of our phones went off at the same time.
Weird.
I scrambled away from him and grabbed mine.
He did the same.
And then I swear, in the next minute, we went from playful banter and hate sex to full-on Hunger Games.
“You, uh…” He scratched the back of his head. “Get the text?”
For the love of designer cheese, why the hell did he have to have such nice golden likable abs?
“Yeah.” I tried not to flinch. “The uh, one about Emory Enterprises and the internship opening.”
“They pick you?” His nostrils flared.
“Depends.” I gulped. “Did they pick you?”
“I’ve applied three times.”
“Same.”
“I report in a few days.”
“Damn.” I kept a straight face. “Good for you.”
“Olivia…” He lowered his voice and looked ready to pounce. “Did you get in?”
“Maybe.” I started trying to find my clothes by way of telepathy. Shoes, shoes, where are youuuuuuuuu? “I should get going.”
“Let me see your phone.” He lunged.
I panicked and jerked back and then sprinted into the living room, hearing his footsteps pounding behind me.
And then I was suddenly on my stomach against the floor while he pinned me there with nothing on but black boxer briefs that looked sexier than sin slung low on his hips.
“Give it!” he yelled.
“Never!” I bucked backward.
And then he was hard all over again.
And I was naked.
And he felt so good.
And I was so angry.
Possibly confused.
And the next thing I knew, he was lifting me up with his hands and pressing his tip into my entrance while I squirmed in an effort to get him to thrust harder.
When he was finally all the way in…
We both stilled.
And then, like a man possessed, he fucked me.
Hard.
Against his carpet.
With my phone in one hand.
And holding myself up with the other while he grabbed my neck, leaning down and pressing open-mouthed kisses to my skin, one hand pinching a nipple, the other keeping me pinned where he wanted me.
It was the most insane thing I’d ever done.
He was the devil.
And damn, did I want to sin.
Heaven was overrated, right?
Just let me fall in with my enemy for one damning minute.
“Mark!” I screamed. “I’m so clo—”
“Had to.” He interrupted. “Needed you.”
“Yes.” I agreed. “Yes!”
“Enemies after this,” he grunted.
“Always,” I said as he pulled out and then flipped me onto my back only to surge back in, his eyes wild.
He was angelic beauty mixed with the devil.
And I was okay with it as he thrust painfully hard as if to punish both of us for feeling this attraction—for acting on it when we knew we’d go back to our corners afterward.
It was just a bit of crazed fun.
Right?
We were enemies.
Always.
But I’d earned this, right? This pleasure. As my eyes rolled into the back of my head, his mouth lowered, and then his tongue was tangling with mine, and I tasted him everywhere.
“Fuck.” His hips swiveled, and then he plunged so deep I felt him in every part of my body. As I pulsed around him like my body was trying to hold him captive, he said, “Olivia, I need to tell you—”
“No.” I cupped a hand over his mouth. “The line goes back.” I arched. “After this…it has to.”
His eyes shuttered, and then I was screaming his name as he slipped his hand between our bodies as if to finish off what he regretted starting.
I fell back against the floor panting.
Looking up at the devil or maybe a fallen angel—who knew at this point?
And then he said the damning words that I should have expected but didn’t have time to protect myself from.
“You should go,” he whispered, still inside me.
“Yeah,” I said stunned, pulling away. “Guess I should.”
I shakily grabbed the clothes strewn around the room. He watched me as I stepped into lacy panties and struggled to get my dress zipped, and smoothed as much as possible. I pulled on my cardigan without zipping the dress so I wouldn’t have to muscle into my Spanx—the last thing I needed was to put on a show as sweat ran down my back while trying to roll on the damn things. Once I was safely covered, I located my shoes and put them on. I walked to the door and left without so much as a goodbye.
Hating him more than I had ever thought possible.
For being the man I’d always compare every other man to.
For being cruel when I needed him to be the bigger person.
And for agreeing to draw that line back in the sand when all I wanted was for him to say no, and keep me in his arms just a bit longer.
I didn’t realize I had tears until they dripped from my chin. Until I was doing the walk of shame down the sidewalk and attempting to grab an Uber to my car.
The only thing I had to look forward to was the fact that I was an intern now for Max Emory.
Nothing, and I do mean nothing,
