Page 11 of Off-Limits Bad Boy
“Nice throw.” I can't help but think the words are a dig as he slips into the jacket, the muscles of his arms flexing with the movement.
“Shut up.” I don't know what else to say.
His chuckle is low, meant only for my ears, thankfully. “Emma Riley, always so fiery.”
Great; now he's made a rhyme out of it. Just when I thought I couldn't hate those words out of his mouth more.
“Stop calling me by my first and middle name.” I'm more than annoyed, I’m some confusing mixture of angry, frustrated, and irritated by him. I’d be lying if I tried to say the sound of my name on his lips doesn’t send a shiver down my spine.
“I wouldn't dream of it,” he says, that devilish smile playing on his stupid handsome face as if he knows he has all the power in this conversation. And dang it, he might.
Without responding, I turn away to hide the blush I can't control, the blush he brings out in me with every confusing statement. I never want to work with him again. I should have told Alex I couldn't do this. I’m so stupid.
My hands fumble with the glasses on the bar, lining them up with unnecessary precision. All the while, I try to shake off the lingering heat from his gaze. My hands fumble with a bottle, nearly dropping it before I steady my grip. It's like my fingers have forgotten how to do the things.
“You seem flustered.”
I stiffen up at his words. “Flustered? No, I'm annoyed.” It feels good to correct him and let him know he can be wrong as I put extra emphasis on the last word.
I turn around, my glare intended to leave him choosing his next words carefully, but he just stands there, leaning against the wall—annoyingly unaffected by me.
“Annoyed, huh?” He pushes off from the wall and saunters closer, that infuriating smirk still in place.
I hate how my body reacts, heart skipping a beat, blood rushing to my cheeks. I hate him for having this power over me.
“Infuriated is more like it.” I say in a bored tone that’s not fooling anyone. “I'll never forgive you for not telling me that we could get out of the walk-in sooner.”
He shrugs, that maddening laid-back gesture that screams arrogance. “I don’t need you to forgive me.” Something about the words makes me tremble. “And you didn't ask.”
My hand tightens around the neck of a bottle of brandy. “I shouldn't have to!” The words burst out of me, loud even to my ears. He knew I wanted out. Always playing games, always making stupid jokes.
He is just too much; too much smirk, too much confidence, too much of a jerk.
“This is why I don't like you,” I say, the words lashing out before I can rein them in.
Kade's response is immediate and dramatic. He clutches at his chest, staggering backward a single step as though I’d physically hit him. “You... don't like me?” His dark eyes widen as his pained voice fills with mock hurt. I know he's just trying to rile me up, but it’s working.
I exhale sharply, my frustration mingling with the desire to just tell him to knock it off and leave me alone. But I know he won’t listen no matter what I tell him.
“I'll never recover,” he whispers, a devilish glint sparkling in his eyes.
“Shut up.” I sound angry, but he’s forever unflappable.
He arches an eyebrow at me. “Make me.” The challenge in his voice tells me he’s sure there’s nothing I can do.
“Maybe I will.” Even as I say the words, we both know I'm bluffing.
Maybe it’s time to really do something to prove I’m serious. I glance down at the bowl of sliced limes on the bar in front of me. I can throw one at that smug smile of his, can't I?
“Emma Riley.” His voice is stern, almost fatherly as he glares at me. There’s something to the way he says my name, something so intimate I want to throw the whole bowl at him.
“Don't you dare,” he says, straightening up and adjusting his jacket with a casual flick of his wrists. “Citrus can damage leather.”
I pick up a lime, feeling its weight in my hand. I see him tense up and toss the lime up before catching it in my hand with ease.
“I owe you one,” I say, thinking back to the icy prison of the walk-in where he left us both stranded for far too long.
I glance from the lime to him, gauging the distance and how hard I want to throw it to do some damage if it hits him in the face.