Page 73 of For Fillies and Monsters

“Lay. Off,” I bite out.

He leans back into the booth, the motion making his black T-shirt stretch tighter over his chiseled chest, and I absently lick my lips.

“Lay off what?” he asks innocently, popping another fry in his annoying mouth.

I snarl, shifting to lean over the table. “This fake, thick-ass flirt bit you got going on. No one likes it. No one finds it cute.”

“Dale doesn’t seem to dislike it.”

“I mean it, Gus,” I hiss, sucking in a sharp breath.

He leans forward, his face only inches from mine. “Make me.”

Dale rushes back to the table, babbling about needing to let her cat out for its walk, and then hugs me fiercely. I can smell the tequila lacing her breath, her chest bumping into my own.

“I love you, but you are being stupid. Do not let fear ruin your life, Stetson.”

Gus drove me home; I could barely walk back to the truckon my own two feet. I was pissed when we left, but now I feel nothing but fear—fear of how badly I want this man who has been the shadow in every single one of my nightmares. I’m afraid of myself and how much I need him.

I open the truck door, ready to bolt to my room as the tires come to a screeching halt. The tension has built to an inferno inside the tight cab, and if I sit here any longer, there will be no survivors between the two of us. I vault up the porch steps when Gus’s strong hand clamps around my elbow, so hot and punishing I yelp.

“What are you doing?” I scream into the darkness, my body trembling beneath his touch. I have to get away—the fear, arousal, and tequila swirling so violently in my head I feel lightheaded.

“Are you scared?” he whispers, his breath fanning over my neck.

I yank at my arm, trying to free myself from his grip. “No.”

“Stop lying.” He bares his teeth at me, and I instantly feel more than scared—I’m terrified.

And so horny my clit actually throbs.

“I’m not scared.” I lift my chin to meet his eyes. “I just hate you. I hate being this close to you. I hate that you think you can manhandle me and I’ll like it. I hate that you flirt with Dale, but just growl and hiss at me. I hate that you’re everywhere, all the time. I can’t escape you. I can’t escape my hate for you.” I hope the words hurt, drive him away, punish him the way I have been punishing myself for feeling anythingbutthose words for him.

A truly predatory smile claims his face, and I stop breathing. “Say it again.”

“I. Hate. You,” I bite out, each word more of a lie than the next.

Gus grabs my other arm so quickly my head snaps back with the movement. As fast as a switch, he picksme up by the flesh of my upper arms and slams me into the side of the house. I scream, both from the pain erupting up my back and the frustration of being manhandled. Stars dance dangerously behind my eyes, but I can’t look away from the monster crawling out of its cage in front of me. He’s transforming in front of my eyes, no longer the growly but complacent man I’ve come to know and fear. No, this version of him is angry and violent and takes what it wants—and fuck if it doesn’t call to my very soul in a hushed whisper only the truly fucked up and depraved can hear.

“Well, guess what, Stetson? I hate you, too. I hate that you think you can run from me. I hate that you think your life will possibly be complete without me in it. I hate that you don’t think you need me.” He says each word so quietly I can’t tell if they are in my head or not. Because no matter how many times and ways I’ve imagined this moment, it never came with an admission like that.

One that has my heart shattering.

And then his mouth crushes down on mine, all thoughts engulfed in the fire that isus.

It isn’t a gentle, tender, loving first kiss. It is painful, punishing,all-consuming. His tongue spears through my puffy lips, ripping into me, prying my teeth apart, ignoring any attempts to keep him out. He is having me, whether I want it or not.

And fuck, I want it.

I cling to him, my fingers digging into the flesh of his arms, scratching and clawing—trying to get closer. He bites brutally on my lip until it cracks, copper spilling into our mouths, and he groans at the taste, the sound sending vibrations ricocheting through me.

Gus presses his hard body into my soft one, pinning me against the wall with the weight of it. His hands release my arms, one spearing through my hair, gripping it at the roots as he tips my head back to dive deeper into my mouth. The second-hand drifts down to the edge of my sundress, gripping the cheek of my ass, pulling my hips even tighter to his. I roll them, focused on the feeling of the hard length of his cock pressed between my legs, gasping into his mouth.

I want him desperately. I grind again, hungry for his dick to rub against my sensitive clit, searching for the pressure and friction only he can give me.

He hisses, trusting his hips forward to meet me. “Fuck, Stetson. So fucking greedy.”

I whimper, riding against his hips harder and faster, my own hands tugging at the roots of his curls. His hair, fuck, it’s softer than I imagined—and I’ve imagined it in painstaking detail.

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