Page 23 of Love Undiscovered
Her eyes narrow as she glares at me. I can almost feel the anger radiating off her. She’s practically vibrating with it.
“I do not have a stick up my ass.”
“Prove it.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you. You can go to hell.”
“And, score one for me.” I tick off an imaginary mark in the air.
“Score one? Score shit. There’s no score. And if there were, you wouldn’t have that one. I would.”
“How’d you score, gorgeous?”
She sits there, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her tits look fabulous like this. Twin mounds of white, creamy flesh just waiting to bust free from the confines of that oh-so-sinful dress; begging to fill my hands and mouth with their deliciousness.
“Eyes up here, asshole.” She tilts my chin up.
God, she’s stunning when she’s pissed. Gaze piercing, cheeks slightly pink, red lips pursed. I don’t even care that she caught me eyeing her rack. It was totally worth it.
“You’re exquisite when you’re mad,” I tell her.
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“That’s not what I heard,” I smirk.
“Oh, funny. Haha,” she says dryly. “Does this attitude actually work for you?”
“I’ve had no complaints, Icy Q.”
“That’s because women are idiots.”
“Do you count yourself in that classification?”
She rolls her eyes at me, then pushes her chair back and stands. “I’m going to the bar.”
“Again? I’ll come with you,” I say.
“You don’t need any more to drink. You’re driving, remember?”
“I’ve had two bourbons over four hours, I think I’m fine.” I stand.
She stares at me, her face impassive, and her eyes hard.
“Fine. I’ll get water,” I say.
“I’ll bring you back a glass.” Her voice is cold. “I could do for some time without your company.”
I sit back down and, once again, watch her ass sway as she walks away. I don’t care how cold she is, that view will ever get old.
