More Than Need You (More Than Words 2)

It’s like waving a crimson cape in a bull’s face.

Come hell or high water, I’m going to have this woman under me, in love with me, and bound to me for life. I’d love to bypass the bullshit and strip her down, tell her I’ve given her my heart as I’m seizing her body. But she shoots me a challenging glare the second she walks in.

“Morning.”

That’s all she says as she heads for her desk. Something about her has changed. I can’t put my finger on it. My eyes narrow as I watch her, but whatever is different is too subtle for me to detect.

“Morning,” I drawl.

Doesn’t she remember that the cold shoulder only fires up my blood?

As she walks past me, I get a glance at the back of her dress—or rather the lack of it. Other than a thin strap dangling between her shoulder blades, there’s nothing to cover her. The shoulders swoop down to a vee that gathers at the waist. The wide sash trails into a bow that swishes across her luscious ass, which the gray knit lovingly cups.

I’ll bet you a hundred bucks she’s not wearing panties.

I start to sweat as I approach her.

Shit. I’ve got to keep my head screwed on straight. Temptation fucks with my brain, and no one has ever gotten to me faster than Britta.

“How was your weekend?” I ask.

“Fine. Where’s Maxon?”

“With Keeley. They’re engaged as of last night. Do you need something?”

For a moment, her expression slips and she looks happy for my brother. Then she remembers she’s talking to me. “Not from you. Rob late?”

Oh, she’s challenging me. The trembling girl I shocked at her engagement party is long gone. In front of me is a woman who looks ready to give as good as I’m going to give her. It’s making me hard as hell.

“Busy. It’s just us in the office.”

She stiffens but gives no other indication she’s troubled by that fact. “Fine. I have things to do.”

“In a minute. How’s Jamie this morning? How did he do with Makaio’s sister?” Logically, I know why Britta didn’t ask me to spend the weekend with him…but it pisses me off nonetheless.

Some of the starch leaves her shoulders, and her voice softens. “He’s fine. He’s happy.”

“Good.” I nod. I’d like to hold him. I miss my little man more than I thought possible. But he’s part of what I’m fighting for. “Thanks.” I glance at the clock. “Look, it’s not quite eight thirty, so business hours haven’t started yet. We need to talk. I want to make it perfectly clear that I’m speaking to you right now not as your boss but as your lover.”

“Ex,” she insists, the starch back in her spine.

“Not for long.”

She raises a cool blond brow at me. “You wish. Sign the papers. Glad we’ve had this chat. I’ve got nothing else to say.”

She digs into her briefcase, completely ignoring me. File folders come out, which she spreads across her desk in order of priority. I know how she organizes.

When she withdraws her laptop and hooks it up again, I step up behind her and grab her wrists. “You may not have anything else on your mind, but I’ve got plenty. Let’s sit down face to face and talk.”

“Not happening.” She wrenches out of my grip and sashays to the back of the room, hips swaying, to make her tea.

Are you fucking kidding me? Did her getaway with Makaio make her feel so badass female that she’s actively inciting me to verbal combat?

“That’s not an option, angel.”

She leans her backside against the coffee bar and dips her teabag into her steaming water. Absently, she scoops up a sugar packet on her right. Her expression says she could give two shits what I have to say. “You’re going to force me to listen?”

I grit my teeth. I feel my blood boil. God, I want to fuck the sass out of her.

“You’re going to want to hear this.” I saunter toward her to lean my fists on the counter on either side of her hips, caging her against me. “We’re going to make a deal, you and I.”

Her eyes widen a fraction before she quickly blanks her expression. “I don’t have to make any deal with you, Griff.”

I can’t stop looking at her goddamn mouth. I’m so close, if I inhaled just right, leaned in a little bit, I’d be kissing her. I’m so distracted by the thought I almost forget to speak. Thankfully, my head up north kicks in.

“If you ever want me to sign those papers so Makaio can adopt Jamie, you do.”

Her lips tighten, and she pushes against me. I give her—and myself—a little breathing space. She shoulders her way past me and heads toward her desk again. “Determined to make my life hell to the bitter end, huh?”

“Determined to take the worst possible slant on what I have to say before I’ve even said it?”

Britta reaches into her briefcase again and pulls out her stack of bridal magazines, all lovingly tape-flagged over the past week and a half. I want to rip them all up. No, that’s pointless. I want her to stop planning her life with another man.

“Of course. You hounding me hardly says you’re totally in the mood to be agreeable.”

“I thought cynical was my department.”

She casts me a sidelong glance. Yes, she’s always been sexy as hell to me—soft, feminine, heartfelt, corruptible. All the things I’m not. But this Britta with sharp edges is setting off all my predatory instincts.

Stalk, capture, claim.

“You made sure I’m pretty damn good at it, too.” She slaps her palms down on top of the magazines and sighs like it’s already been a long day and she’s exhausted. “What do you want, Griff? Besides the opportunity to be a pain in my ass.”

Now that I look at her, she doesn’t appear well rested. I see dark circles under her light makeup. What the hell did Makaio do to her this weekend?

I clench my fists, certain I don’t want to know.

Determined to press on, I grab Rob’s chair and roll it across the floor to her desk. When I sink into it, I gesture to her. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

She shakes her head. “Just spit it out.”

“All right.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You and Jamie are moving in with me until your wedding day.”

Britta blinks at me in shock before she scoffs her way into an all-out laugh. “You have finally lost your mind. Why would you think for an instant I’d do that?”

Once I threaten her, I can’t take it back. It will change the tone of our relationship. Despite my ruthless rah-rah cheer, I’m hesitant to make this ugly if I don’t have to. “It would be so much better for us all if you simply agreed. I’m trying to be nice here.”

She stills and looks at me like I’ve lost all my faculties. “I have a house. I have a fiancé who will object. I have my sanity to keep. So unless you’ve got some way to compel me to move in with you, the answer is an absolute no.”

With a sigh, I rise and march to my office. I don’t look back, but I hear her tsking and settling in at her desk. Does she think I’ve given up?

After rifling through my briefcase, I find what I’m looking