Page 28 of Keeping Kasey
“Me?” I laugh humorlessly. “What’s wrong withyou? I give you a damn good job, making damn good money, and a damn nice place for you and your mutt to stay. And how do you repay me? By repeatedly running your mouth and disrespecting me in front of my men.”
“You came tomefor help—not the other way around.”
“And my wallet is suffering for it, which means I won’t be. If you were one of my soldiers, I’d have beaten you to hell and back for your attitude, and I’m close to going that route anyway. I’m the head of this family, and I know you’re new to this, but that title deserves respect. Either respect it or get out, but I’m done with this attitude.”
Her head tilts to one side, blonde curls falling over the pale skin of her shoulder as she studies me.
I brace myself for the shouting, cursing, and arguments that I’ve come to expect.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“You’re right,” she says. “You’re the boss. I’m the employee. I’ll watch how I talk to you in front of people.”
Her careful wording isn’t lost on me, but getting an agreement out of this girl is like pulling teeth, so I take the victory.
I straighten my back and adjust my tie. “Well, in that case, we’re fini—”
“But I’m telling you right now”—she steps forward, pressing one slim finger into my chest—“my respect isn’t given; it’s earned, and you havenotearned mine. You don’t get to push me around.”
My lip turns up, and I take her small hand, pulling it from my chest but not releasing it. The floral scent that wafts off her fans the flames of whatever fire is burning me alive from the inside out.
“You’ve been pushing me since the second we met. You just don’t like it when I push back. Don’t start a game you can’t handle playing, beautiful. I won’t go easy on you.”
“Beautiful?” she repeats as blush creeps up her cheeks, and I’m hit with a sharp satisfaction.
When I don’t say anything, she shakes her head with a scoff.
“You’re ridiculous. It’s going to take more than flashy cars, a pretty face, and flattery to win me over.”
I use her hand to pull her closer. “You think I have a pretty face?”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re a narcissist.”
“You find me attractive.”
“And delusional.”
“Am I?”
During our exchange, I’ve pulled her so close that I’ve traded oxygen for her perfume—and it’s not an unpleasant trade. Her forearm rests against my chest, and our labored breaths mingle as she studies my gaze, searching for an answer I can’t give her.
Because this—whatever warmth is still spreading through my chest—isn’t a result of the irritation that usually fuels my frustration. It’s not a particularly comfortable feeling, but for some reason, I want more.
I wanther.
My fingers itch to tangle in those wild curls as I tug her bottom lip between my teeth. I want to feel how her small, delicate body would fit against mine.
So, in the interest of achieving this goal, I go against my very nature and tilt my head in silent question.
Kasey’s eyes dilate as she reads the gesture, and I can’t help but think I’ve found the perfect way to finally shut her up.
When she lifts her chin and parts her lips in a wordless consent, I don’t hesitate.
I take Kasey’s lips with every ounce of the anger she’s inspired over the last week. There’s nothing sweet or romantic about how our lips move against each other—just pure, animalistic need.
I release her hand and wrap one arm firmly around her waist, anchoring her to me as my other hand freely explores the wild curls that have taunted me all day. She responds by wrappingher arms around my neck and using a tight grip on my hair to hold my mouth to hers. My scalp burns, but I don’t even slow.
