Jo shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Ty. I am. It would be different if we were in love and going to make a life together, but we aren’t. I—I don’t think I can do that to myself just because—”
I unbutton my shirt.
If she won’t listen to reason, maybe she’ll listen to her body. To my body.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to make you forget why you don’t want to marry me.”
She pulls her robe tighter. “This isn’t about sex. Don’t make this about sex. This is about my dignity.”
“Your dignity isn’t in danger. You aren’t in danger. But if you won’t listen, then I’m not going to talk.”
“Tyson Masters, you are so full of yourself. You think your cock is the answer to everything.”
I unzip my pants and let my problem solver out of its cage. It’s already hard and ready to go to work.
Jo frowns. “Really, Ty?”
“Yep.” I stand and shed every stitch of clothing I’m wearing. Then I crawl over her, hand behind her head as I lay her down.
I nip her bottom lip. And that’s all it takes. She returns my kiss, her fingers shaking as she pushes them through the hair at my temples.
Jo’s mine.
She’s always been mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Tyson’s hands frame my face and he pulls me to him. His mouth comes down on mine.
My body responds, even though that tiny voice in my brain protests the colossal stupidity of allowing him close, too close.
He shoves his hand inside my robe, pushing it to the side so he can tug my nipple with his teeth. A rush of adrenaline washes away any words I might’ve said to stop this onslaught of sensation.
Ty lets his fingers find the warm wetness that affirms my body’s complicity in my downfall.
Inch by inch, I’m losing the battle to push him away. To save my sanity. To walk away unscathed.
He slides his tongue across that place at the base of my neck that sends an electric chill through my being.
“I need you, JoJo.”
I sigh. “I’m right here in your hands.”
Tyson rolls to his side, taking me with him. Gray eyes search mine.
“I mean, I need your help. You have to help me. I don’t have time to find someone else. You have to marry me.”
The heat of the moment wanes and my heart shrinks in on itself.
Suddenly, the reality of it all crashes in on me.
He doesn’t want me, he wants what I can do for him. Any warm female body will do. If it wasn’t me living in his master bedroom, he’d be screwing whoever was.
He didn’t choose me. He chose himself, his wants, his needs, his agenda.
I push out of his arms and roll off the bed to my feet.
Pulling my robe tight, I stalk to the door.
He jumps to his feet. “Hey. Where are you going?”
“I won’t marry you, Ty. I can’t.”
His forehead wrinkles and he narrows his eyes. “You can, and you will. You said you would. You live with me. And I’m going to run out of time to make this work if you don’t.”
My hands fist at my sides. “You can’t make me marry you.”
He throws his hands up, looking to the ceiling as though the answer to his problem will be written there. He steps toward me, backing me almost to the wall. “You owe me. Remember?”
My nostrils flare, and I suck in a deep, not so calming breath. “Do I? I mean, do I really?”
He lifts one eyebrow and crosses his arms. “You’re the one who let out the pigs.”
“You are a pig!” I swing around to the door, grasping at the handle.
Ty snakes a hand out, looping his finger over my robe’s belt. I struggle against him, managing to get the door wrenched open.
I have to get out of here. I’ll never have the wherewithal to resist him if he manages to catch me again. For as much as he frustrates me—hurts me—deep inside, my heart and mind both know the truth. The truth I keep shoving into the basement of my mind.
I yank the tie from his hands and pull it tightly at my waist as I stalk out the door.
“Where are you going?” He calls after me.
His clothes are all over the floor. At least that should give me a minute to breathe.
To think.
“Away from you.”
“Jo!”
I slam the door, blocking him from my sight, but not my thoughts.
The air stirs through the dimly lit breezeway outside my room. The other doors on my floor are closed. I lean against the wall, trapped by the lust that threatens to overwhelm me if he takes me in his arms again.
Lust and emotion. Anger doesn’t seem to douse the fire of my hunger for him and all the things he does to me.
He opens the door. My heart spazzes when he steps into the hall, naked and glorious.