Ruin & Rule

“Does it pass your approval?” My skin burned with anger—it misted from my stomach right through my limbs.

He shifted in his chair, eyes dropping to my chest. “It hides too much.”

I ignored that.

It fit me well; the size was perfect and the color set off my milky skin. Turning to face the wall again, I grabbed a pair of skinny jeans and hoisted them up below the dress. Bunching the material—so he could see the jeans—I turned.

Kill’s jaw was locked, his legs spread.

No! Not again.

I hated this man. I deplored him.

So why had the undercurrent of fighting suddenly switched to intensity?

Chemistry’s cruel trick—sending pheromones into the air—forcing two people together who wanted nothing to do with each other.

I sucked in a breath as my eyes fell involuntarily to his lap. There was no disguising the rapidly building erection beneath the tightness of his black jeans.

His long dark hair fell over one eye, obscuring the blistering want in his gaze. “Fuck, you drive me crazy with your broken memories and pushiness, but I can’t deny you’ve got a gorgeous ass.”

My cheeks pinked as my blood notched up a few degrees.

“Glad you noticed something about me,” I muttered sullenly. Dropping the material of the dress, I turned to get a sequined T-shirt with a tropical umbrella on the front. Ignore him. Then maybe whatever this was would disappear.

Tugging the T-shirt over the front of the maxi, I turned to show him. It bunched over the dress, but at least this way Kill wouldn’t see any part of me. “Does this fit your strict criteria?”

He gritted his teeth. “If you’re trying to piss me off—it’s working.”

I tilted my head, gathering my long hair and twisting it into a coil. “I don’t know what you mean.”

His hips twitched a little. “You know exactly what I mean.”

I smoothed the T-shirt. “You claim we don’t know each other, Killian, so how would I know what you mean?”

He stayed silent.

Sighing, I asked, “What do you think? Yes or no? You’re the one buying it—your call.”

His nostrils flared. “You don’t want to know what I think.”

My stomach twisted. The way he watched me did awful things to my blood pressure. An intolerable ache built between my legs.

I hated him but wanted him at the same time. It seemed my mind was locked to me but my desires weren’t. I knew what appealed to me. Him. This brooding, temperamental man who loved a dead girl. A man who was going to sell me. Trade me. A man who denied me freedom by hiding answers rather than with chain and key.

Turning away, I jumped as Kill suddenly stood up and grabbed my shoulder. He gathered my hair, fisting it into a ponytail. “Take off the dress.” Reaching with his injured arm, he hissed in pain as he plucked the buttercup-yellow bra and panty set off the hook and dangled it in front of my face. “Try this.” His hand tugged my hair. “And I expect you to face me while you do it.”

I gulped.

He let me go, returning to the chair.

My hands shook. Shakily, I put the underwear back on the hook. I wouldn’t—I couldn’t expose myself again.

My eyes snapped shut as he murmured, “Don’t make me tell you again, Forgetful Girl. I want to see you. I want to see how the clothes I’m buying fit.”

He was an ass, but damn if his voice didn’t lick through my insides and make me quiver.

“You’re not being fair.”

His voice throbbed. “I’m not being fair? You threw five hundred dollars in my fucking face. You made me talk about things I haven’t spoken to anyone about. You made me feel things I’ve tried to forget. All of that means you’re completely in my debt. And you said it yourself, these clothes are mine. You’re just the convenient hanger that will wear them for the time being.”

I spun around, angry tears glassing my eyes. “I’ll never be in your debt. Never!” Temper shot up my spine. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” Placing an elbow on the chair, he cupped his chin and ran a single finger over his bottom lip. “Now strip.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

He waved at my body. “Won’t ask again.”

I backed up until the hooks pressed into my shoulder blades. “I could refuse. You can’t make me.”

He smiled slowly. “You could refuse. But then you’d get no clothes.”

“I could walk around naked. I can imagine that would be rather inconvenient to you—your so-called brothers at the compound wouldn’t do too well with double standards. What’s it going to be? Letting me have my dignity, or letting your brothers see me naked?”

I didn’t care my reasoning was rash and lacking common sense. I was done being cooperative.

His entire body vibrated with tension.

My voice dropped to a husky whisper. “The men who fought against you will want what you have. They’ll see me by your side and imagine fucking me. Taking me. Owning me. You’ll have to—”

“Shut up!” The seat squeaked as he exploded upright.

“Don’t hate me for pointing out facts.”

His muscles twitched. “You’re taunting me.” He scowled. “You really are fearless.”

“Not fearless. Just strong enough to know when to fight. You’ve forgotten that.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing.” His green eyes swirled with smoke, full of pain and torture. “I forget nothing.”