“Hey, get over yourself!” She spat as though she were the wronged party, as if she had a right to be enraged, which for the record, she did not. “You and him, you both think everything revolves around the two of you, and that all I’d be interested in is what either does or says.” Tossing back her head, the long hair fell behind her shoulders. “Well, I’ve got news for you!” Flashing furious, beautiful green eyes, she raised her gaze defiantly. “Half the times, I don’t give a damn. You worry about what I might or might not hear, when most of the times, you’re the ones calling me in your conversation or your sex, and now your dreams, too.”
“How do you know about the sex?” Whether she was doing it on purpose or it slipped out unbidden, she was getting her wish—infuriating him.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Carelessly, she picked up the wheat cake and finished it with a single bite.
“You know what I mean.” Hardly fooled, he pressed his point. “About last night and your ass getting in the way…” Fuck how much I wanted it, too.
“Oh…that…” Her blush was confirmation enough. “You said it yourself. My ass always seems to get in the way—”
“Never like last night.” Slowly, he dug out of his pocket the knife and ran a finger on its pointy edge, making sure she saw it clearly.
“I wouldn’t know about that,” she insisted stubbornly, but the slight lurch sideway told a different story.
“You’re lying.” So he was on her before she could get away, holding her from behind her chair and sliding the blade so close to her throat, one dip and it could have ended everything.
“So maybe I caught that last…scene.” Despite her gulping hard, there was no trace of fear, not in her voice, not in her steady gaze, not in her body that was tense, yes, but for entirely different reasons. They were too near anyway. Her fragrance was seeping down his senses and made his piece ache more with the craving to possess her. “Still doesn’t change a damn thing.”
“I don’t think it’s such a great idea to keep yapping your trap off.”