I knew he wanted me.

I could see it in his eyes every time he’d look my way.

He wanted me on my knees, wanted me bent over his bed—or maybe his knee. He wanted to fuck me so hard he couldn’t stand it.

And the thing that drove him crazy?

He knew he couldn’t have me.

If I would’ve given him half a chance, Angel Garcia would’ve jumped at the chance to get his dick wet. I knew it for a fact, even though he’d never admitted how thirsty he was for a piece of ass.

I might have only been twenty-one, and he might’ve been my dad’s age, but that didn’t matter to him, and it only made me want to tease him more.

Whenever he was around, my heart would beat faster and my chest would tighten in anticipation.

Anticipation of the chase.

The game.

I might have pretended not to notice—like today, when I was looking down at my phone as I crossed the courtyard to my dad’s condo, I could still feel Angel’s eyes on me. I could sense him looking, wanting, lusting.

It didn’t even matter to him that my dad was standing right there with him, talking business or… whatever they would always talk about. Angel’s eyes were boldly roaming over my body, just the way they always did. I loved how sexy it made me feel, and how forbidden it felt, like our little sexy secret.

But it also made me want to know more.

Did he appreciate the curve of my hips? Or the fact that my shirt was always a little too tight, a little too low-cut—particularly for the boring-ass Sociology class I’d just left?

The fact that my professor looked at me the same way Angel did was just a bonus.

I peeked up through my eyelashes as I got closer to the two men. “Hi, Daddy,” I said, smiling sweetly at my father. He barely seemed to notice, only inclining his head slightly in my direction and grunting out a couple of syllables that could charitably be described as a greeting before picking back up where he’d left off with Angel.

Whatever.

I wouldn’t have spoken to him at all if Angel hadn’t been standing there. The sweet smile, the tight top, the extra sway in my walk were all for Angel’s benefit, after all.

I just couldn’t help it. I enjoyed the sexy game of cat and mouse we played—well, the game I played with him.

But even though I could tell he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to be the cat or the mouse sometimes, I knew he enjoyed it, too. I might not have trusted anything that came out of his mouth, but the look in his eyes and the bulge in his pants didn’t lie.

“What’s good, Bella?” Angel asked with a playful wink followed by a quick up-and-down look that my dad seemed to be completely oblivious of as he droned on without even stopping to breathe. Only after Angel interrupted him again to speak to me did my dad sigh and stop to light up a cigarette.

Angel turned to face me, giving up any pretense that he’d been listening to my father. “Did you learn anything in school today?”

I cut my eyes at him and tossed my hair back, stopping just a few feet away from him as I decided how I wanted to answer. I’d already corrected him enough times over the years about my name. With a name like Kimbella, I’d long ago come to terms with the fact that most people were gonna try to shorten it somehow. But most people who knew me went with Kim, or even simply K.

Not Angel, though. He always insisted on Bella—beautiful in Italian—even though he’s Cuban, I’m half-black, and our block of South Beach condos were about as far from Italy as they could be.

None of that seemed to matter to Angel. His playful, almost sarcastic tone told me that he called me Bella because nobody else did, and because he knew how much it annoyed me.

I played my game with him, and he played his with me.

“We talked about the patriarchy,” I said, pausing to stretch a little, to arch my back just enough to prove that I still had the upper hand in our little exchange. Predictably, his hungry eyes shifted to my chest, and I could feel my sensitive nipples harden slightly as the thought of his teeth grazing across them flashed through my mind. I shifted my weight a little, flipping my hair again as I walked between the two men. “And we talked about how threatened most men feel around a strong woman. But no… I didn’t learn anything today that I didn’t already know.”

My dad frowned and looked directly at me for the first time since I’d interrupted their conversation. “That’s enough talking, Kimbella. Go on inside and start dinner while Mr. Garcia and I finish up here.”

I cut my eyes at Angel, who shot me a wicked grin in return. I hadn’t expected my dad to follow my talk about the patriarchy and strong women, but the irony of the moment hadn’t been lost on Angel.

It was another thing that I found sort of irresistible about the man. He understood me just as well and I understood him.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour, Daddy,” I said, choking back any hint of sarcasm or back-talk. My father wasn’t a well-educated man, but he didn’t put up with too much attitude, either. And even though his rules and his old-fashioned thinking made it sometimes feel like I was living in a convent, it was worth biting my tongue and keeping my mouth shut to stay with him rent-free while I finished college.

I’d promised my mom before she died that I’d get a degree, that I’d take care of myself and my father. It was a promise I hadn’t made lightly, and one I intended to keep.

“Try not to work too hard, Bella,” Angel said, still smirking slightly as he turned back to face my dad.

I narrowed my eyes and opened my mouth to say something back, but snapped it shut after a moment. What good would it have done to speak up?

Both men were infuriating, but in very different ways.

Still, when I turned to go back into the house, I could feel Angel’s eyes on me again, burning into me.

Looking.

Wanting.

Needing.

I didn’t turn back, though. I stayed strong, even though the feel of his gaze on my ass was doing things to me that I’d never have admitted.

Maybe he was better at playing our little game than I’d given him credit for.