Page 17 of Hostile Cravings
“You were already stuck there with her. You’ve got a week, and this will only take me a few days. He’s hot and his son is riling him up even more. The asshole. I don’t blame Donelli for wanting Angie away from him.”
“At this point, I’d happily hand her over to him.” The words came out oddly hollow and, as if he picked up on it, Mason stayed quiet. “Call me when you calm him down and let me know the outcome,” I said to cover up.
“Will do. And Ty, don’t kill her. I don’t need to explain toDonelli why my best friend murdered his daughter on their honeymoon.”
“Fake honeymoon.”
“Whatever, just don’t kill her. And keep your hands off the staff.”
“I can’t make any promises.” But he’d already disconnected.
With a sigh, I pocketed my phone and headed back in. The chances of surviving this were slim. Angie was like a spoiled brat who needed to be put in time-out. Everything she did grated on my nerves, but I wasn’t certain what worried me more, killing her in a heated rage or fucking her in a desperate need.
Chapter Six
ANGIE
My scalp was burning where Tyson had pulled my hair, but within the pain sat pleasure. The move had made me so wet that I was uncomfortable. Blowing my hair from my eyes, I leaned my head against the headboard, wondering why I was obeying his order to stay still. The idea of being stuck in this bed for days while the beach was so close irritated me. Just as much as the thought of having to share this room with Tyson. Although that thought wasn’t as unappealing as it had once been. My response to him was changing, and I didn’t understand why.
He’d been nothing but nasty to me…but then again, he hadn’t. He’d tenderly looked at my ankle before wrapping it, then carried me into the car and the resort. And he’d staked a claim on me with his words on the plane and supported my claim on him when that wench had been hitting on him. Hearing him had made my body grow warm and left my heart thumping uncontrollably. There was a sweetness to Tyson, one he hid below his hard exterior and comments.
I looked across the room to the balcony, wondering why I cared if he was sweet and why his touch was still lingering on myskin. He’d been gone a few minutes, and I couldn’t help thinking his words for the woman had been for show and he was downstairs taking her up on her offer. An odd streak of envy pinched me as my mind pictured him grabbing her hair and touching her like I wanted him to touch me.
“Damn, Anj, you’re losing it. You did not just think that,” I scolded myself. Needing to clear my mind, I put my feet down, peeking over my shoulder to make sure Tyson wasn’t coming in. I hobbled over to the bathroom, checking myself out while I washed my hands. I was a mess. My hair looked like I’d been rolling around in the sheets with Tyson. I tried to smooth the knots out, but it didn’t help. Sighing, I exited the bathroom, jumping with a scream as my eyes met his dark ones. He was standing at the end of the bed, his arms crossed, his tattoos bulging under the muscles of his forearms where he’d rolled his sleeves up.
“Do you purposely disobey me just to piss me off?”
“I don’t obey anyone, so don’t take it personally. And don’t get any ideas, I’m not into that kind of thing.”
He gave me a sly grin that sent my insides quivering. I really needed to check what that doctor had given me. Unless it was the pain making me delusional.
“I’m not getting any ideas, and trust me, I’m the furthest thing from a dom. That’s more Mason’s thing…” His face morphed to disgust. “Gross, that’s not good. I need to have a talk with him.”
“Who knew Casey was into that?” I teased, gingerly making my way to my bags and hoping his mind would stay on his sister and not on my show of independence.
“Don’t put that thought in my head or I’ll beat the shit out of Mason again,” he grumbled, swiveling to me swiftly and grabbing my waist before slinging me over his shoulder.
“Put me down, Tyson!”
“I warned you,” he said, pushing my skirt up slightly before his hand met my bare skin.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Do you wear anything but thongs?” His voice was raspy, and I couldn’t deny how it sent a flurry of butterflies through my stomach.
“No, they’re easy access.”
“Shit, Angie. You need to stop that.” He smacked my ass again, and I gave out a yelp as he threw me on the bed.
“Stop what? Dressing sexy?” I rubbed the warm spot where the sting still lingered, trying to ignore how wet those slaps had left me.
“It’s not sexy, it’s easy,” he grumbled, standing over me.
“It’s the same thing your sluts wear.” I bit my tongue, knowing I’d just set myself up for a comeback.
“You’re not a slut,” he mumbled, surprising me. “Stop acting like you are.”
He turned away and walked toward the balcony.
“Then stop acting like you are.”
