Page 46 of Pretty Little Threats

The zipper is too hard to get on my own. The asshole probably planned that, another way to put me at his mercy.

I walk over to the mirror attached to the closet door, staring at myself with a scowl. The dress is amazing. I look hot, but the underwear is too dark. Vanity has me reaching beneath the silk and gliding my thong down my legs, dropping it into Dare’s laundry basket. Turning back and forth, I tell myself it’s only to make sure I don’t embarrass myself in public, not because I’m admiring the dress. It’ll take more than a pretty outfit to win me over.

The zipper stops above my ass, and all the important bits are covered. I definitely won’t be bending over. Taking a deep breath, I march to the door and yank it open, glaring at Dare. His forehead rests on his arm, which is propped onthe threshold. As he stares down at me, it’s not hate I find in his gaze.

“I need your help,” I snap, turning and walking back into the room, ignoring how my body is fully aware of him prowling after me. Instead of stopping behind me to zip up the dress, he drops into the chair beside the bed and looks at me with mirth dancing in his gaze.

“Must you be difficult?” I ask.

His lips twitch. “Come here.” More of his games.

Fine. I can play too. Scooping up the heels, I hold them at my side and slowly make my way toward him, letting my hips sway more than necessary, and his gaze immediately drops.

Smug satisfaction blooms inside my chest. I stop in front of him, waiting until his eyes lift from my hips, trail over the curve of my breasts, and finally meet mine before turning around and sitting in his lap.

I thought I’d surprise him, but his hands glide over my ass to grip my hips, like he was prepared for this all along. Heat scorching through my body, I straighten my back, waiting for him to zip the dress. His fingers trail along the fabric, and even though there are layers of material separating me from his touch, a shiver floats down my spine. His knuckles brushing against the top of my ass, he drags the zipper up, stopping to push my hair over one shoulder. The soft graze of his hand has electricity dancing along my skin. The action would be tender, if not for the extortion hanging between us.

His body is tense beneath me. As soon as he finishes zipping the dress, I reach down and slip on each heel. The movement pushes my ass into his rapidly hardening length.Now that’s a big cock. Swallowing, I force myself to finish what I started, standing and ignoring the way hishands find my ass and hips again, unnecessarily assisting me.

Dare is doing this on purpose. Trying to drive me mad with desire.

Luckily, I’m not the only one who has more than hate on the mind.

I turn to face him, ready to meet his glare, but his eyes are hooded as he runs his teeth over his lower lip.

Stupid, gorgeous asshole.

He starts to lean forward, almost like he’s coming to get me.

“Not so fast.” With a haughty smirk, I lift my foot and push my heel into his chest, forcing him back in the seat.

Attention dropping to my foot, I swear Dare almost chuckles. He glances at me through his eyelashes, tongue dashing out to wet his lips, and then focuses on lacing up the heel. He hasn’t noticed I’m not wearing underwear yet.

A cruel sort of desire slithers through me. When he’s done tying the heel, I say, “Kiss it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kiss my foot.” I lift my eyebrows in challenge.

“All right, princess.” He lowers his lips to my foot, ghosting them over my skin in a way that makes tingles shoot through my body. And then his eyes slip up my leg and snare on my bare cunt. The fingers on my ankle flex. A giddy sense of power swells in my chest as the beast is left speechless. His gaze shoots to the bed, where the thong he bought still lies, then flies up to meet mine.

“We can’t be late,” I remind him, tugging my ankle out of his grasp.

His fingers are slow to let me go, and this time, when I push the second heel into his chest, his eyes devour me, hooding even farther. Dare takes his time tying the laces,drawing out the moment until my chest is rising and falling. Surely, he’s seen women naked before.

And then, he drops his lips to the top of my foot, gazing up at me with a threat of retribution shimmering in his rich brown irises.

Heat crawls up my neck.

He releases my foot.

I stand on wobbly legs, my throat dry as he rises, closing the distance between us and resting his forehead against mine.

“Rose,” he purrs. “You’re playing dirty.” His hands find my lower back, drawing me closer.

My heart stutters in my chest. “All is fair in hate and war.”

He smirks. “Thought it was love?”

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