On His Terms(35)

He stared at her with this stormy and pissed off expression, but also something else flickered in his blue eyes. Was he thinking about what she had just said? She hadn’t exactly hidden her own emotions.

“This conversation is finished, Sorcha.”

“No, it’s not. I’m not finished, Rian. If I have to be subjected to some jealous rich bitch coming at me because she is in love with you and thinks I’m stealing you away from her, I think all of this needs to be brought to light.” She stared at him just as hard as he was watching her. “You use women until a time when you don’t want them anymore. Hell, you’re doing it to me, because clearly a week is the cutoff time in which you can deal with my presence.”

“It’s not that—”

She held up her hand and shook her head. “I’m the last person to judge anyone. I signed that contract, took the money you offered, so I am using you as much as you’re using me.” She lowered her hand to her lap. “But I also know when the truth is right in front of me. You get what you want because you’re gorgeous, intelligent, and know what you want out of life. I can appreciate and respect that. But don’t try and lie about it, least of all to yourself.”

He stayed silent, and she knew that her words had penetrated him. He faced forward, his brow furrowed as he thought, but she didn’t continue speaking. She had said what she needed to say, and what he needed to hear. He had said he liked her not backing down, not to get sucked into his alpha-ness—clearly her words not his—and so she had delivered on that. But on the heels of what she had said, Sorcha couldn’t think about her own words, and reflect them on her. Glancing at Rian again she saw that his hands were in tight fists on his thighs, his knuckles white from the strain. He was facing away from her, but his reflection showed an almost distant and forlorn expression. She could see that he knew her words were right, and what surprised her was that he wasn’t outright rejecting them.

She could handle a psycho ex that wanted her man back, could even handle this week, but what she didn’t know if she could handle was this blossoming sensation inside of her. It was a feeling that maybe she could fall for this man, and what scared the shit out of her was that she knew with time it would grow if she allowed it to. Hell, to feel anything but annoyance and hatred for Rian after only being with him for this short time should have made it clear that she could be totally and utterly lost to him.





Chapter Thirteen



The coffee table was set with candles, the overhead lighting low and intimate. The curtains on the floor to ceiling windows were pushed aside, and because the room was so dimly lit the lights outside seemed exponentially brighter. Although she hadn’t been with Rian very long, she had seen a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde act with him. He could frighten her with just a look, have her needy and wet with the way he stared intently at her, and could kiss her off like nobody’s business. It was a love and hate relationship she had inside of her, one where she wanted to hate herself for feeling anything for him aside from disgust, but then she loved the way he made her feel when he touched her, or told her what to do. She had actually been surprised the sex with him hadn’t been anything insane. He was rough for sure, but the things he whispered, the way she felt him touch her at times, let her think that how he acted wasn’t all of who he was. It was a hard exterior that she knew could be broken.

She stepped into the living room and glanced around the opulent space. They had finished eating dinner over an hour ago. But instead of Rian sleeping with her he had retreated to his office to work. Even if she had pushed everything back a week so she would have this time with him, it seemed Rian was still preoccupied with work. There were deep, loud, and angry muffled sounds coming from down the hallway, and she turned and stared in that direction. A second later the sound of heavy, pounding footsteps, and then she heard a door open and slam shut. Rian was making his way down the hallway toward her, his face angry, and she knew that right now the bastard side of him was in full swing. He wore a pair of dress slacks and a white button down shirt that had the first few buttons at the neck undone. His sleeves were also rolled up his toned forearms, and when he walked right by her without saying a thing she knew she should have stayed in the bedroom.

Sorcha turned so she could face him and watched as he poured himself a drink. He did this twice, filling up the glass and then tossing it back before he repeated the process.

“You want one?” he asked without facing her.

She swallowed and nodded, but realized he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, thanks.”