Page 11 of Hostile Cravings (Wicked Cravings #3)
Pulling the shirt over my head, I made my way to the stocked bar and poured myself a glass of wine.
My ankle was throbbing, but I didn’t want to go to bed yet.
Taking my phone and my wine, I sat on the large balcony.
There was a small table with two chairs, and I pulled one over to prop my leg on.
I scrolled through my feed, listening to the waves crash below, the sound of music drifting through the air along with a few voices.
I wondered if Tyson’s was among them, if he was really with the resort manager or if he’d found another woman and was touching her.
It doesn’t matter, stupid.
This was fake and in a few days or weeks, we’d go back to our lives, back to the familiar hatred that rested comfortably between us.
The sound of the door made me jump, and I braced myself, not wanting to watch him bring another woman in for me to see him with.
The thought was degrading, and I knew if he did, it would completely obliterate my ability to go through with this sham.
I wouldn’t be able to look at him the same.
I told myself it was the embarrassment of it, but I knew the truth.
That deep down, I didn’t want to see him with another woman because it would hurt.
“Is that my shirt?” he asked.
“So what if it is? Take your slut and find another room,” I said, taking a sip of wine and not looking at him, afraid of what I’d find if I did.
He dropped a bag on the table and snatched the wine from my hand.
“Mixing—” he started, but as I looked up at him, he froze.
Shit, I hadn’t expected him to come in and I was vulnerable.
No makeup, no contacts, no mask. Just me.
I waited for the insults, the laughter, the jabs, but none came.
Instead, he lowered the wine glass and brushed his thumb over my cheek, lingering on the birthmark.
I dropped my eyes, fearing his words and hating that I felt so small, so unconfident, so seen.
“Shit, Anj,” he murmured. “Why do you cover that up?”
My sight leaped back to him. The hazel in his eyes was bright with a mix of green and amber, the moonlight illuminating them. There was a softness to them that I recognized from when he’d first noticed my freckles in his room. But where it had disappeared quickly then, it lingered now .
“Don’t joke,” I whispered.
“Who’s joking? You’re fucking beautiful.”
My heart thudded so loud I could have sworn it was loud enough for the entire resort to hear. The air in my lungs fled with a whoosh that forced my mouth open. Words failed to form and as if he realized he’d been sweet, he turned to the bag and began taking out wrapped plates of food.
“Did you work up an appetite with that woman?” I asked, relieved that his attention had turned from me and that no woman had accompanied him into the room. “Why not just eat with her, or was she that bad at taking your cock?” The words came out with an acidity that burned my throat.
“I didn’t sleep with her,” he muttered, removing the cover from my plate. My mouth watered, my stomach rumbling. Fingerling potatoes, fresh green beans, and a piece of chicken that looked delicious filled the plate.
“Why not?” I asked, grabbing a green bean and chomping on it as he uncovered another plate. “Did you find someone else? One with bigger tits and lips?”
He shot me an annoyed look before he picked up my legs and sat, placing my feet in his lap.
“I didn’t fuck anyone,” he grumbled, rubbing his neck.
“But you could have.” My voice was softer than I’d intended, and his eyes grew lighter.
“Nah, wouldn’t look good if I was picking up another woman on my honeymoon, now would it?” The way he said it was sweet, and I couldn’t help but smile.
He looked away quickly and stabbed some potatoes with his fork. Shoving them in his mouth, he rose and moved my feet back to the chair before walking from the balcony.
“Thank you,” I said, not really knowing why I wasn’t making fun of him and throwing jabs at him about not being able to get it up.
“I’d say you can thank me with that mouth of yours, but I don’t want to risk you biting me,” he replied as he poured himself a glass of liquor.
“With as much of a prick as you are, I’d definitely bite,” I teased, liking the way the banter between us was settling the awkwardness in the air. Even if we weren’t lacing it with the usual vitriol.
“Yeah, not testing that out, little viper. You keep those teeth to yourself.” He snatched my feet and sat again, taking a long drink of what looked like scotch. “Why are you wearing my shirt and why are you out of that bed?”
He leaned back, his hand still on my foot. I didn’t want to tell him I liked the way his shirt smelled, or that it reminded me of him. “You said my clothes were too slutty, and I figured you’d need the bed.”
He chuckled, dropping his glass to the table and tossing another potato into his mouth. “Your clothes are too revealing. You show too much skin.”
“Does that make you jealous, husband?”
With a sly grin, he replied, “Would watching me fuck another woman in that bed make you jealous, wife?”
Shit, would it ever, but I wasn’t about to admit that or to admit that my hatred for him was morphing into something I couldn’t define. A craving was growing, one that I considered hostile because it went against everything I felt for Tyson Raines.
His hand slid up my calf, causing a flutter of nerves to tingle through my body. I needed to get control, but his words and his touch had stripped me of it.
“I…” His fingers kneaded my flesh and warmth settled in my lower belly.
My breathing constricted. “No,” I said, trying to reset myself, to remind myself that I hated this man.
I tried to pull my leg from his hold, but he tightened his grasp on it, keeping the other secured.
“I’d probably enjoy watching you fumble to make a woman come.
You’re such a brute. I’m sure it would give me a good laugh. ”
His lip twitched as if he was holding back a smile before he clenched his jaw to cover it. “You doubt my ability to make a woman come?”
I leaned forward. “Definitely.”
“I should be insulted but I know what kind of men you sleep with, and I know you’ve never had a man who can break you the way I could, baby.”
The hitch of my breath was too loud, and he released my legs, gently lowering my injured one. My eyes never left his when he stood. I sat back as he came closer, putting his hands on either side of my chair. The nearer his face came to mine, the more my body came alive.
“You don’t know what a real man can do. All those boys you’ve been with are clumsy frat boys compared to me.”
“And what are you?” I asked, resisting the urge to run my hand through his auburn curls.
“I’m a man who would ruin you for any other man.”
What was happening to me? To us? I could barely breathe. My body was so turned on that I swore there was a puddle in my seat. “Would you let another man touch me once you ruined me?” I wanted to kick myself for asking, for the desperate need for him to say no that was wringing my heart.
He stepped away, the air returning to my lungs with the absence of his closeness.
Taking his seat again, he eyed me, and I noticed a heaviness in the air, the anticipation that hung there along with the knowledge that his answer could change our dynamic so that we were something more than the enemies we’d always been.
“Well, little viper,” he leaned forward, taking my legs in his hand, his fingers drifting over my skin so that it caused goosebumps to form while he placed my feet in his lap again, “you see, that’s the thing.
I don’t hold on to women once I’ve ruined them.
It’s not my thing, just like you don’t hold on to the men you let use you. ”
I pursed my lips, irritated yet relieved that he’d returned to his usual demeanor, until he said, “But if I decided to keep you…” This time the air burned in my lungs when his eyes met mine, the hazel so dark they were almost brown.
“…I’d kill any man who dared lay a finger on you, I’d burn through his territory like an inferno and lay waste to anything of his until there was no trace of the bastard left to remind you of that touch. ”
A strange squeak slipped through my lips. All function to do anything but stare into his eyes disappeared as those words wrenched their way into my chest and carved his name into it.
He sat back again, throwing another potato into his mouth.
“Now tell me why you cover those freckles up,” he said, as if he hadn’t just laid me to waste with his words.
“And don’t tell me it’s because your fancy boys don’t like them.
” He glanced over at me when I didn’t answer. “Are you shitting me?”
I tugged my feet away and rose, needing to get far away from him because I didn’t know how to grasp what I was experiencing or the way he seemed to turn the conversation so quickly, like he had a light switch that flicked between sexy lover to annoying ass.
“Why do you care?” I asked, intent on leaving the balcony.
He grabbed my wrist and tugged me back, causing me to land in his lap.
“What the fuck, Tyson?” I shouted, trying to pull my wrist from his hand but only moving further into his hold.
“Do you have any other words in your vocabulary besides fuck?” he asked. “With those glasses, you’d think you’d have more.”
“I have lots of words like asshole, shithead, bastard, jackass,” I replied, pushing at him until he released me.
“Still foul mouth words.”
“Like you’re any better,” I huffed, limping away from him. “You use the word fuck as often as you fuck women.”
“Says the bitch who can’t keep her legs closed.” His tone was harsh, but under it there was a sense of hurt and I wondered if I’d made the wrong move. If by pulling me back to him, he’d been giving me an opening, one I’d returned with anger and my usual bite.
“Well, they’re staying closed for you, but I’m tired of being in this room.
I don’t care what you or the doctor says, I’m going out.
” I pulled a tight halter top out of my bag, ignoring his grumbles as I pulled my shirt off to change.
“Maybe I’ll pick up a real man who can make me come better than you and will ruin me so that I’ll never need you or your stupid touch.
” The words had come out in haste, and I realized how they sounded too late.
I looked over at him, seeing the hunger that sat in his eyes, the fight there to not yield to it.
Only then did I remember I’d started changing in front of him and my shirt was still off, revealing my pink bra with lace that was thin and see-through.
There was so much tension in his muscles that his shirt was straining to rip.
I wanted to turn away, to run from that look, from what it meant, from how it changed everything we were, but I didn’t.
Because as much as I wanted to run from it, I wanted to see where it led, to experience what Tyson Raines could do to me, even if I suspected he really would ruin me for any other man.