Page 28 of CurVy Forever
“No.” That takes me by surprise, and so does a dropping weight of disappointment. “I wouldn’t fuck my brothers’ girl. I’d never take anything from them that wasn’t offered. That doesn’t mean I can’t watch you.”
I gasp. “What?”
His irritation melts, replaced by dark determination. He gets closer. “Lots of expensive artifacts in this house, lots of important documents.” His grin is menacing. “Infrared cameras everywhere, Baby Girl.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah… That’s right. So, while I won’t touch you, doesn’t mean I didn’t watch you take Donnie’s cock through that cage and get finger fucked by Ty. And pant and sweat and jerk that thick body around.”
Fuck. I don’t know when it happened, but his head has dipped to meet mine and his mouth is talking against my upper lip. I’m lost. In his dominance. In his scent. Words.
I inhale, and his breath carries an erotic image through my parted lips. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t jerk off to the motion of your tits, to the beautiful mess you made on your thighs, to the husky moans they earned from your pretty lips.”
God, I can’t think.
His tongue lashes the top bow of my lips, and he purrs, “Doesn’t mean I don’t want the chance to earn that sound for myself. Oh, how I would make you scream.”
So close. So turned on by the thought of all three of them— My heels suddenly lift, my toes taking me a tiny bit higher so I can kiss him, so my lips can meet his, touch, taste, but I stop and blurt out, “I need tampons.” Fuck.
I drop to my heels.
He straightens and grins. “I’ll take you.”
“You will do nothing with me,” I deflect quickly.
“I’ll take you”—his eyebrow rises— “to the shops.”
“Oh.” I fight my blush. Fuck. “Right. And no.”
I step backwards, putting some serious space between me and the tall, dark, handsome monster I want nothing to do with. Smoothing my shirt down my stomach, I right myself.
“I can Uber. I don’t need you.”
“No, you cannot Uber.”
I huff, frazzled. “That was just about Donnie. Before. The kissing thing. I miss him. I want to kiss him. That wasn’t about you. At all.”
Oh my God. Shut up.
He walks to the front door and opens it, holding it expectantly. “I know a 24-hour store. Close by. It’s late. I’ll drive you.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
I counter him with, “Don’t you have court tomorrow? You need sleep so that you don’t look like shit.”
Arrogance lifts his grin in one corner; I still want to bite that smirk. “So, you think that I look like shit?”
My gaze slides down his naked torso. I swallow the answer—no. “Are you going to put a shirt on at least?”
“I wasn’t planning on it”—He shakes his head— “No.”
Rolling my eyes, I walk to the door but before I can pass him, he snatches my arm and displays the fleshy part where my implant used to be. It’s now a bruise, and a small dry, red gash. I tug at his hold, but he only tightens it. “This is not acceptable. I wouldn’t have let this happen to you,” he states curtly.
Protective of Tyler, I don’t think before I blast him. “You have done a lot worse. At least I’m not a six-year-old girl.” Gritting my teeth, I tug my arm hard.
He releases me, and I storm straight past him towards the driveway. I don’t look at how my words affected him.
I don’t care.
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