Page 25 of Forbidden Eyes
“I’m sorry,” she eventually says.
Sorry? I ever get my hands on her naked skin and she sure as shit will be.
“Carter, I’m so sorry. But you came at me from behind and…” The smile that wants to creep across my face from just that thought alone is damn hard to stop.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” I demand.
Everything that was contrite about her face sharpens again. I'd like to say it pisses me off, makes me want to dump her ass back on a plane. All it actually does is wind my dick up some more. “Protecting myself. Screw you, Carter.”
Her ass swings around and starts to storm off before I have chance to grab her. I follow, still rubbing my damn jaw, and eventually stop her before she gets into the elevator. She pulls out of my grip, so quickly I move my head in case she tries beating on me again, and then stabs the call button.
"We're not done here," I snap, reaching for her.
She spins in my hold, wrestling to get away. Screw that. Little madam needs teaching some damn manners. But the feel of her against my body winds up parts of me that shouldn't be thinking the way they are. I tense, trying to keep her still so she doesn't aggravate me anymore than she is doing, or my dick, but it's constant. The brush off her hair over my face, healthy little nails trying to dig in and cause pain. I end up slamming her body into the wall, desperate to keep her away from my dick. She gasps a breath at the impact, her eyes widening at my force. "Stay, the fuck, still."
It takes everything I've got to keep my body away from hers. But we’re still connected, my hands on her wrists sending a current of electricity straight through me. Her pulse thrums beneath my grasp, and our eyes lock as I fight the desire that stampedes over me. Soft lips. A dazed gaze looking back at me. Warm, ripe skin waiting for me to devour it.
“Let me go,” she says quietly. “You don’t get to touch me. No one does unless I ask for it.” And that statement has me begging for help from above to stop me doing something I shouldn't.
Finally, my brain kicks back in, making me do the right thing rather than reel headlong into wrong. I ease my fingers off her and back away a step, giving her the room she’s after. Probably best given what my dick wants to do to her anyway.
“You gonna tell me what that was about back there?” I ask, straightening my suit. Her eyes narrow, hands landing on her hips.
“No. I want to learn, Carter. Not discuss years of my father’s influence while in his protection. And, while I'm at it, I don’t want to be treated like a child and shoved in a corner to play nice while the big boys slope off and do god knows what. Where were you?”
My lips smirk a little, certainly given how close we just were.
Sassy little bitch.
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is. All of this is my business. All. Of. It. Tell me.”
“You keep acting like a fucking brat, Sofia, and I’ll tell you a lot of things. Show you them, too.” Her eyes widen, anger bringing all the fire back front and centre in my mind. “Most of which you aren’t adult enough to understand.”
“Screw you, Carter. I’m a Cane. And a Vico. If you really want to go toe to toe about who’s in control here, then let’s do this. Who was in the black car?”
“No one.”
“Who?”
Every instinct I have wants to sling her over my shoulder and fuck each attempt at authority out of her mouth. Prissy little madam needs strapping, or caning, until I've had my fill of prime Ivy League pussy. My eyes do the worst thing they damn well can. They inch across her skin, imagining all the things I could do to her if she wasn’t who she is.
“Carter? Who? Don’t treat me like my father does. I’m not having it anymore. If you won’t tell me, I’ll go out on those streets and find out for myself.”
“Go on then. You’ll have to work a damn sight harder than that to get information out of me.”
Her legs have turned and left before I’ve got my mind out of the gutter I’m failing to keep out of. “Sofia? Get your entitled little ass back here.”
No response. Nothing but her carrying on, hurrying down the stairs. Where the hell she thinks she’s going, I don’t know. What’s she going to do? Walk the damn streets like a whore in the hope of stumbling across information? I carry on following her, eyes directed at her ass the entire way until she breaks out onto the pavement. Her head swings left and right, and then she’s off again towards the place I met the deal boys. She gets there eventually and paces as if she’s trying to make up her mind where to go.
“Plan?” I chuckle out.
“Oh, screw you. Asshole.”
And she’s off again.
My mouth breaks out into a smile. I can’t help it. Cute as fuck little ass stamping down the streets in heels that are far too high for her to get much further than a mile in. I keep following, doing nothing but watching the way she moves, the way she sweeps over the ground as if it’s not there. Other women walk by, none of them holding a candle to the flair she has. It makes my smile grow again as time stretches on, wondering why she intrigues me like she does. It’s probably the fact that I shouldn’t go within a mile of her. Not just because of her age, but because of her father. And although both those things should concern the fuck out of me, right now, they don’t.