Page 101 of The Bronze Garza
In a fit of pique, heat, and frustration, I flounce into the living room, stopping in front of him.
Lazily, his eyes shift from the flat-screen to me. Apathetic. Bored. Then, slowly, they glide over me.
I’m wearing my purple satin and lace nightgown, which doesn’t show much considering it’s brushing my ankles. But from the way the look in his eyes morphs from bored to blazing, I might as well have been wearing a two-piece lingerie.
It’s not worth getting excited over, though. By now I know nothing will come of it. He must be walking around withtheworst case of blue balls.
I hold out my hand. “Give it back.”
He drags his gaze from my breasts to my face. “What?”
“The card,” I clarify. “I want it back.”
Eyes cooling from molten to impassivity, he scrapes his teeth over his lower lip. “Why?”
“Because I’ve changed my mind,” I grit out in exasperation. “Give it to me.”
“It’s in my room.”
I fling my hand upward. “Then go get it.”
“You go get it,” he replies with all the indifference in the world. “Watching a movie here, if you don’t mind.”
God, he’s infuriating!In a whirl, I flounce upstairs to his room. And oh lookie, the door’sopen.
As I enter, I’m once again hit with the heavy, skin-tingling aura of him. Just the sight of his messy bed sends shock waves through me. It’s utterly ridiculous.
Senses heightened, I drift around his space, dusting my fingertips over his things, opening drawers and touching his clothes.
With a longing sigh, which sounds more like a whine from a wounded animal, I move to sit on the bed in the exact spot he’d been when I watched him touch himself.
Remembering the stiff, venous hardness of his cock, how bronze and beautiful it had been, I reach up and pinch my nipples over the satin material of my gown, my eyes fluttering closed.
Squeezing my breasts, imagining my hands are his, I recline on the bed. The ache between my thighs worsens, and I writhe in frustration, overwhelmed, a foreign noise vibrating in my throat.
“Not so easy, is it?”
My eyes fly open, and I turn my head to see Torin leaned casually against the doorframe, watching me. Only then do I remember my reason for being in here.
Cheeks aflame, I shot up from the bed.Shit. He’ll no doubt think I’m an obsessed headcase now.
“I can’t find it,” I say, amazed I’m able to get the words out without stuttering.
He straightens from the doorframe and reaches into the pocket of his sweats, then out comes the thin cut of wood between his index and middle finger.
Bastard!He’d had it with him downstairs.
“Give it back,” I say.
“Do you really want it back?” He advances into the room. “Or are you just upset I haven’t used it?”
Don’t leave the ball in their court, ever. Hold on to what you have. Keep your leverage.
“I—” I start, then change to, “Why haven’t you?”
“Maybe you should’ve put a ‘use by’ date on it.”
“I hate you.”
