Page 17 of Haunted Hearts
“Well, it wouldn’t have mattered if you’d just done what I asked you to!” His voice is a growl.
Did he just save me from getting crushed by a ladder? Sure. But to blamemefor his mistake? Get real. This time I let him see me roll my eyes. And then I walk right up to him—so close we’re almost touching—and look up into his face, meeting his glare with one of my own.
“So, what?” I say, pressing a finger into his solid chest. “You’re not the boss of me.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know how childish they sound. But I don’t care. Because Will Holloway has royally pissed me off, and I’m sick of being polite.
eleven
WILL
Lydia’s standing in front of me, her head tipped back so she can see all the way up to glare at me, and she’s got her finger poked into my chest. If she didn’t look so goddamn scary, I might be tempted to think about the way her breasts are pressed up ever so slightly against me.
Scratch that. Iamtempted. More than tempted. There’s something about the way she’s snarling at me that makes me want to grab her breasts and squeeze. Drag my teeth down her neck, slide that collar down her creamy fucking shoulder and?—
“You think you’re some kind of hero, huh?”
My brain comes to a screeching halt. I look back at her, confused. Ididjust save her from having a pile of metal come straight down on her head—which honestly, I think I deserve some thanks for—but I sure didn’t say anything about being a hero.
“I have no clue what you’re even talking about,” I huff out.
“Oh, quit playing dumb,” she all but spits. She drops her hand from my chest. “You trot your little brother out, showing off howkind-heartedyou are in taking him in, and then you buy my friend and me a couple of fucking caramel apples—like we can’t buy them ourselves! You thought you really did somethingthere, didn’t you? Wow, Will Holloway, what aniceguy, what a?—”
“Well, excuse thefuckout of me,” I retort. “I was trying to do something nice. I saw how that gelled up, prep school dickwad blew you off, and I wanted to make your day better. Pardon me for wanting to fucking help!”
“Oh, please. You’re no better than he is,” Lydia says, her voice dripping with spite. “You’re just another self-centered prick.”
Her words hit like a brick, straight to the face. She’s breathing hard, like she’s waiting to see what I’ll say. Maybe Iama selfish prick. My dad definitely was, walking out on us like that. Thinking that, because he paid child support, it somehow absolved him of what he did to us. And here I am, buying caramel apples and catching falling ladders like it makes up for what I’m doing to the building this woman so obviously cares about—even if I don’t get why she does.
Maybe she’s right.
I stare at her for a moment. She’s so fucking beautiful, her dark eyes all narrowed like that, glinting with anger in the golden afternoon light that streams through the window above us. I can feel the heat from her body, and as I stare at her, her eyes fixed back on mine, I feel my dick hardening in my pants. It’s so close to her stomach. Only a zipper and a strip of denim between my cock and her smooth, creamy skin.
As I take a half step toward her, closing the tiny gap between us, Lydia’s still glaring up at me. We’re so close our bodies are touching now, and my cock is fully hard—there’s no way she doesn’t feel it. But she doesn’t move. Doesn’t back away.
Suddenly, my hands are around her ass, and I’m pulling her into me so she can feel every inch of my length. Feel how hungry I am for her. How much she’s making me crazy. I’m still waiting for her to pull away—to show some sign that this isn’t what she wants—but she’s standing stock still, her palms on my chest.
Running my hands down the curve of her hips, I lean down and brush my lips against her ear. Give her ass a gentle squeeze.
“I may be a selfish prick,” I say into Lydia’s ear. “But I guarantee you I’m better than he is.”
“Oh, yeah?” She looks up at me. There’s a challenge in her eyes behind the anger. “Prove it.”
And then something erupts.
In a split second, I’ve lifted her off the ground and she’s wrapping her legs around me, our mouths are crashing together like we’re crazed, starving fools. Which maybe we are—starvingandfools. Because it’s been a while, and Lydia’s ass in my palms and her tongue in my mouth is delicious.
It’s also crazy. This woman hates me.
But I don’t care. Right now, I only care that Lydia’s mouth is soft and full, that she’s running her tongue over my bottom lip as I hike up her skirt and knead her ass beneath my palms. I slip my tongue between her lips, and she grinds against me, whimpering, wrapping her legs tighter. It’s impossible not to think about what’s there between them, about what she’s rubbing against me so desperately, when there’s only a strip of lacy fabric covering it. Adampstrip of fabric.
My cock is rock hard, and it’s all I can do not to unzip my fly and let my entire length spring free. But that wasn’t part of the challenge. I said I was better than that hair-pulling, frat boy motherfucker, and Lydia asked me to prove it. Although taking out my dick and wrapping her fingers around it sounds divine right now, it also screams ‘selfish prick’.
And we can’t have that.
Still gripping Lydia by the ass, I carry her to the far side of the room, setting her back gently against a spot of wall between the bookcases. She’s pinned between the wall and me, her ankles hooked behind my back. I pull away from Lydia’s mouth for amoment, tracing kisses down the length of her collarbone, my cock still straining at my jeans.
Thank god there’s nobody else here.
