6

 

CARINA

 

Without saying a word, he removes his hand from my throat and steps backward. I ready myself for a fight, but before I can, he turns me around and scoops my hair out of the way. My features twist in confusion, but I allow him, not knowing where he’s going with this.

Honestly, nothing’s ever happened like this before, so how could I know. If it had, I could be better prepared than I am now. Instead, I’m silently calculating which angle he’s coming from, not knowing his end game in this tug of war between us.

Taking the zipper of my dress, he slides it down painstakingly slow—his rough knuckles skimming over the ridge of my spine in the process. Feeling his course flesh graze my softness is something I could become addicted to if I don’t watch it.

No! Shaking my head, I will my mind to stray away from that part of me. The part that’s no longer supposed to exist inside of me—yet, it’s the part that’s always dominant when Mateo is around. I can’t focus. Can’t push it down into the deepest parts of me anymore. It’s free—no longer hiding behind the bars that have been caging them for almost thirteen years.

My mouth falls open at the same time my mind screams to step away from him. But no matter how much my mind rebels against his touch, my body is a slave to his.

His touch feels like little jolts of electricity zipping over the surface. I want to stay pissed at him, make him pay for ever thinking he has such a right to touch me, but I can’t. The only thing I can do is feel.

Feel … when so long I’ve blocked that part out.

Pulling my bottom lip into my mouth, I bite down hard until I taste the barest hints of crimson flourish hitting my palate. I can’t let him know that what he’s doing feels amazing, even if he’s only using his fingers. I’d rather die than admit something like that.

“What are you doing?” I whisper breathlessly once he’s hit the bottom of my dress.

The straps fall off my shoulders as the top of the dress falls to my waist, baring my swollen, aching breasts to the wall I was just up against. He presses against me, and I swallow hard and close my eyes when his strong chest and rigid stomach press against my naked back. Leaning forward, his lips rest against the shell of my ear as he takes me by surprise and flicks his tongue against it.

“Whatever I want, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he replies, his voice thickened with arousal.

“I can kill you,” I retort, already knowing that’s a bunch of shit. This stupid fucking traitorous body isn’t going to allow me because she’s already on team Mateo.

A chuckle in a low timbre floats into my ear, and I can’t stop the tremble no matter how much I will my control to stay in place. “Mmm, I love it when you talk dirty, kitty. Fight me. Draw blood. I want you to. That way when I take you, your downfall will be sweeter than any type of submission you succumb to.”

I’m so lost in every sensation I almost miss what he says. I can’t help it. There’s something about Mateo that causes me to go stark-raving mad with feelings, and as much as I hate to admit it, I yearn for more.

However, his words break through my lapse in judgement. My downfall? He thinks he can force submission on me? Bull. Fucking. Shit. What the hell kind of world does he live in where I—the one who stars in the scary stories people tell—would ever lie down like a subservient little lap dog?

You can’t conquer a queen who has her heel against her king’s throat. It doesn’t work like that, and never will.

Since he knows exactly who I am and what I’ve done, he should know better than to believe that would ever work with someone like me.

I’m not one who gets conquered. I do the conquering.

Slapping his hands away from me, I step out of reach, never bothering to right my dress as I turn around the face him. My face is a mask of anger as I glare daggers at him, fighting to keep myself from attacking—at least for the moment.

“You think you can force someone like me? You honestly believe I would ever allow that to happen?”

“You wouldn’t have a choice,” he replies, cockiness exuding from his voice in waves.

Growling, I lower my head and look at him through my lashes. “Oh, really?”

He almost had me—almost made me forget what my true purpose is here. Instead, he turned my body against me, like only a manwhore can do to his latest conquest.

“Yes,” he quips, straightening his suit. “Really.”

“I almost allowed you to get away with everything you did to me since I came here. I was even this close,” I fume, pinching my thumb and forefinger together, “to giving into you, but you just had to go and be a little bitch ass punk that thinks he’s a goddamn king.”

“I am the king, kitty.” He tosses a smirk my way. It grinds my gears enough that I make my way toward him until my naked chest is firmly pressed against his. “This isn’t a game. The only rules everyone has to abide by are mine.”

My chest rises and falls rapidly as I try to keep my cool. I’ve never met someone who could jerk on that one nerve I have more than Mateo, and he does it with a sense of finesse I find, again, infuriating.

He says this isn’t a game? Oh, how small minded he is. His entire goddamn life is nothing but a game—a game he’s not privy to.

“I’m going to ask you a serious question, and I want a serious answer.” If he mouths off again, I’m liable to kick him in the scrotum and laugh as he sings tenor.

“Ask away, but it doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“When playing chess, which piece protects the king?” It may seem off topic, but he’ll soon realize our lives are nothing but a sick and twisted game of chess before this is all over with.

“No clue. Enlighten me.”

I can tell he’s getting a big kick out of this, and he’s simply humoring me. But what he doesn’t understand is this: he needs me more than I’ll ever need him, and one by one he’s cutting all ties keeping us together.

Releasing a maniacal smile, I retort, “The queen, and you just seriously pissed her off.”