Page 24 of Brutal King

“Kat, what are you going to wear?”

Only this time his voice didn’t travel from the living area sofa to my room but came from right there in my doorway.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I said as I peered out from my closet.

Unperturbed by my question, he marched over to my closet. “Well, you won’t answer me. I want to know what you intend on wearing.”

“Kobe!Get out!”

He flicked one hanger after another. “Nice Prada, but all wrong. A tasteful St. Laurent, but... no. It’s not right for this morning. McCartney, cool, but not for this. As a matter of fact, I think you should avoid designer labels altogether.”

He looked at a charcoal gray sweater dress. “This is too stodgy.” He went on to a brown skirt and jacket. “This is too matronly. I don’t even understand why you have this in your closet to begin with.” And finally, he pulled out a bright yellow micro mini dress that, while it fit me very snugly, it essentially looked like a narrow tube on the hanger. “This is too... hell... I don’t even know what to make of this. What the hell is this?”

I ripped the hanger out of his hand. “It’s to go clubbing, if you must know. And, since you’ve barged all the way into my closet, I may as well tell you that I was planning on wearing this black Armani midi dress with the three-quarter sleeves and slit neckline. I’ll pair it with sensible two-inch slingbacks, and a simple yet classic pearl necklace.”

He looked at me. Appraising? Approving?

Appalled?

We argued about the midi dress, and he finally put his foot down.

“I think a dark pantsuit would be more suitable.”

“Oh?” I said, silently agreeing with him. But, again, I hated the thought of letting him think he could so easily boss me around. “Well, I happen to think the midi dress is feminine and professional.”

“A pantsuit would be better.”

“What the hell do you know about women’s fashion, Kobe?” I looked at him with contempt. “Hell, you barely know enough about men’s fashion to dress properly yourself.”

He smirked and clasped the lapel of his suit jacket. “Nice try, but I happen to know that I have great fashion sense.” The smirk disappeared and he leaned in with a frown. “Now put on the pantsuit.”

“No.”

He reached into my closet and grabbed a pant and jacket ensemble. “This. Put this on.”

“Kobe!No.”

“Yes.”

“Go to hell!”

His nostrils flared as he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me up against the wall. His breath came hot and hard against my skin as he huffed with rage... or something else.

Say something, I thought as we just stood there.

He pressed closer, his chest crushing my braless breasts. His breathing became more and more labored as his jaw went slack.

It was suddenly stiflingly hot in the huge closet. I swallowed the hunger that took over me and fought to keep from putting my arms around him. He smelled so good. And he felt so good, hard and big against me.

Yes, he was hard.

He licked his lips as his eyes devoured me.

He’s going to kiss me. Oh, my God. He’s going to kiss me.

I licked my lips in anticipation.

Oh, come on, Kobe. Let’s put all this bullying nonsense behind us and let’s get along. Let’s be friends. Let’s be more than friends. Let’s skip that and just fuck.

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