Page 23 of Arrogant and Merciless

“That I hadn’t been with a lot of guys? There’s nothing wrong with not having slept around,” I say defensively.

“No, I know. But I would never have said what I did at the opera house if I’d known . . .”

“Please stop. I want to remember tonight as something special. Maybe it’s routine for you, but for me, going to the Metropolitan is something I’ll cherish forever—a memory to hold on to when things get rough.”

Crap, I shouldn’t have added that last part. He doesn’t need to know so much about me.

“You can go as many times as you want. I have that box all year long.”

And risk seeing him with another woman? Over my dead body.

“Thank you,” I say, voice dripping with artificial sweetness, still fuming inside.

“You’re annoyed by my honesty. I want you, but I’m trying to be honorable, Taylor,” he says after a few seconds, during which I pretend to focus on my hands folded in my lap.

“I don’t understand.”

“I could seduce you, but then I’d leave the next day. Or the one after. Definitely soon. It wouldn’t be something someone as inexperienced as you could handle.”

“I’m young, Mr. Marshall, but I can make my own decisions,” I snap back, as though I’m the one dismissing him, not the other way around.

Basically, he just told me that if we had sex, he’d use me and then walk away—because I’m inexperienced, he’s lost interest.

Can this night get any worse?

“You’re feeling rejected,” he states with brutal honesty.

“I’m fine. I just didn’t expect someone so cold to be so sensitive about how I’d feel the next day,” I say sarcastically.

“Cold?”

“You talk about sex like you’re picking something off a menu, Mr. Marshall. For the record, I’m not interested, either. I want someone with fire in his veins, not ice.”

I’m not sure what my words trigger in him, but from the look in his eyes, I’ve gone too far. If we were on the street, I’d run. But here in the car, all I can do is watch as he leans in, his mouth inches from mine.

He bites my chin, then my jaw. He licks my mouth, and just like at the opera house, I don’t know who I am anymore.

This time, it’s not an onslaught but a slow, seductive kiss that leaves me trembling and moaning in his arms before long.

“I wish I could go down on you right here in the back seat and prove there’s no ice in my veins when it comes to you. I’d make you come on my fingers and tongue, screaming my name. Then I’d make you beg me to fill you up with my cock. I’d hold your waist and have you ride me until I was buried to the hilt in that tight little pussy.”

“Ahhh . . .” I groan against his mouth, even though he’s not actually kissing me.

Just as quickly as it started, though, the provocation ends.

“I’m not the best man in the world, Taylor, but I’m not a total bastard. I can’t be what you want or give you what you deserve.”

“So this is . . .the end?”

“We haven’t even started. Maybe today’s your lucky day. I’d destroy you, and you’re too young to handle a broken heart.”

I pull away and stare out the window again, torn between thanking him and cursing him for being such a jerk.

I settle for saving my dignity by doing neither.

Yeah, I’m “lucky.”

He doesn’t deserve me.

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