Rule's Obsession (The House of Rule 1)

She closed her eyes against him, and when she did, his hand tightened on her scalp and his arm wrapped around her waist. "Yeah, you were supposed to be greedy," he said with anger. "I don't like greedy women."

Her eyes flew open to find him staring down at her, his nostrils flaring. His belligerent words struck her in the heart. "Douche bag," she bit out.

A ferocious look crossed his features and he looked as if he wanted to shake her, but he didn't. "Not. Nice," he bit back, and if possible, his hands turned even more vise-like.

"Too damn bad if you don't like it. You're not the boss of me; you don't tell me how to act."

"I don't give a shit about being the boss of you. I don't want to tell you how to act. All. I. Want. Is. To. Fuck. You."

She took a quick intake of breath and ignored the tingle between her legs. "Too bad. You're an ass. A fucking--"

Her words were cut off when his mouth swept down onto hers and every thought in her head splintered as heat, an amazing heat slid down her spine and coalesced within her veins. A great wave of pleasure inundated every cell in her body, a feeling unlike any she'd ever experienced exploding within and consuming her in its entirety. Her blood began pumping rapidly as his arms held her imprisoned, her femininity no match against his masculine virility as he held her with a barely suppressed violence that excited her so much she could barely manage to breathe.

Angie gave herself approximately ten seconds to enjoy his kiss, maybe twenty, possibly thirty, and then she slid her arms between them and began pushing against him. His chest was like a solid wall of iron, with no give at all, and her fingers spread out over his muscles, testing his strength and trying without much success to force herself to step away from him.

He must have felt her conflicting emotions and he lifted his head, his eyes dilating before focusing on her. A tinge of red colored his cheekbones, and the fervor reflected in his eyes both fascinated her and threatened her ability to stand on her own two feet. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. "I may be an ass, but it's your fault. If you weren't so fucking beautiful, maybe you wouldn't have my head so fucked-up." As he spoke, the arm that held her slid down and his fingers grabbed the fleshy part of her butt and squeezed, sending new currents of electric heat along her spine. "It would be good, angel," he said, self-assuredly. "What time do you get off?"

Abruptly his question bled through her messed-up brainwaves, and she realized what he was asking her. "What time do I get off? That's it? Where's the sweet talk?" His arrogance and conceit knew no bounds. As she waited for his answer, Angie admitted she wasn't in any danger of falling in love with him, but she was captivated by his irrefutable strength and masculinity; she knew she shouldn't be, but she was. The window for imposing her will was narrowing, she could feel herself literally falling under his spell as she wondered for the zillionth time what it would be like to go to bed with him. She ached to sleep with him, and that exasperated the hell out of her. How in the hell could she want to sleep with somebody she didn't even like?

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Sweet talk?"

"You warned me that you might try to sweet talk me into bed. What? You can't even be bothered with that?"

He shrugged a shoulder but made no attempt to release her. "Okay. How's this?" A frown of concentration came between his brows. "You're gorgeous and it wouldn't be just for me. I could get you off, too, baby."

As his words sank in, Angie began pushing against him. "Oh, my God." He let her go after a minute pause and she paced across the small room before turning to face him. "You're unbelievable."

"What exactly do you want me to say?" he asked, modulating the question evenly.

She began shaking her head in denial. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

He crossed his arms over his chest, and when he spoke, his words were edged with steel. "You're only denying the inevitable."

Angie rolled her eyes and began shaking her head. "Yeah, I don't think so."

"You think you can stay away from me?" His question contained a hint of laughter, an arrogant boastfulness.

"Well, it's probably going to be hard, what with your silver tongue and all, but I'm going to give it a shot."

"You're making fun of me," he said with a frown.

"Little bit, yeah."

"You think this is funny?" His tone, though controlled, suddenly held an ominous quality.

"Not really. Just not interested." Angie bit her lip. She had no idea how she managed to tell such a bold-faced lie.