One Night of Trouble(23)
The fire in her eyes brought a rueful grin to his lips. “Probably,” he admitted.
Probably? Nuh-uh. Try absolutely. His cock was as angry with him as Brett was, poking so hard into his zipper that he wouldn’t be surprised if it bore the impression of tiny metal teeth marks.
“But I’m interested in conducting an experiment,” he finished. “Call it an exercise in anticipation if you want.”
“Yeah? Well, you can take your exercise and shove it up your butt!”
He ignored her enraged shout and took another step back. “One more thing,” he added.
“You can take your ‘one more thing’ and shove it up your butt!”
A laugh popped out. “Stop threatening to put things in my ass and listen.” He folded his arms over his chest. “When you get home tonight, you’re not allowed to touch yourself.”
“Excuse me?” She glared daggers at him.
“I mean it,” he said sternly. “If you come, I’ll know.”
Her mouth closed. Then opened again. Then closed. “Oh my God. I’m this close to punching you in the face right now, you know that? You invited me here tonight, you’re throwing me out, and now you’re telling me what I can or can’t do when I get home?”
“Yup.”
“You are unbelievable.” She charged forward, her dress fluttering over her thighs, effectively covering her from view. “This isn’t cool,” she snapped, her cheeks redder than a fire engine. “I’m dying here. I want this.”
“And you’ll get it.” He smirked. “Tomorrow.”
“No way. We either finish this now, or we don’t finish it at all.”
“We’ll finish it.” He offered a careless shrug. “Tomorrow.”
Brett gaped at him. He’d never seen a woman look more livid, and maybe it made him a total jackass, but he was kind of digging the whole I’m-going-to-murder-you vibes she was throwing off.
Just meant it would be all the more explosive when he finally gave them what they both craved.
“Oh, what time should we go to your dad’s house tomorrow?”
She stared at him as if he’d just confessed to strangling her cat. “We? We? You’re living in a dream world if you think that’s ever—” She stopped abruptly, every breath coming out as a harsh pant. “Listen up, AJ—what the hell does AJ stand for, anyway?”
“Adam James,” he said helpfully.
She marched up and jabbed him right between the pecs with her index finger. “Listen up, Adam James, you can’t just…just…blueball me—”
He choked down a laugh.
“—and then expect me to be all sunshine and rainbows and sparkly silver unicorns! And you know what? I don’t need you to be my boyfriend anymore. I’ll just tell my family that you ended up being a total jerk—and guess what, dude, it won’t even be a lie!”
She stomped to the desk to grab her purse, shoved the strap over her shoulder, and stomped back to the door.
“I am so frickin’ pissed right now,” she announced. “And FYI? After I get home and finish constructing a voodoo doll of you? I’m going to make myself come a million times. No, a gazillion times.”
He arched one brow. “No, you won’t.”
“Don’t you dare give me that smug, self-righteous look. I’m not playing your little mind games, okay?” She flung open the door. “Have yourself a good night, AJ.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he called after her.
“No, you won’t,” she said without turning around.
He was still smiling as she flew out the door.
Chapter Seven
“Hey, you made it!” Rob said happily, his dark eyes focused on the man who’d just strolled through the back gate like he owned the place.
Oh no he di-int.
Brett’s jaw hit the freshly mowed lawn of her father’s backyard as her gaze collided with AJ.
AJ.
Frickin’ AJ.
Disbelief, anger, and an infuriating burst of joy erupted inside her as the man who’d tormented her yesterday approached the patio table where she sat with her dad and brothers. What the hell was he doing here? She’d made herself clear last night. So clear she might as well have hired a plane to write the words in the sky—their arrangement was over. Kaput. Dunzo. After the stunt he’d pulled, she wanted nothing more to do with the jerk.
Liar. Of course you do.
Brett silenced the internal voice, choosing instead to shoot her deepest, meanest scowl in AJ’s direction. When she noticed how good he looked, her irritation only doubled. The guy was wearing khakis, for Pete’s sake, all preppy-like with his white T-shirt and flawless blond hair and clean-shaven jaw. She wasn’t supposed to find him appealing, damn it. The boy-next-door type had never done it for her in the past.