Dirty Addiction (Dirty 2)

“Skye, go to your room. I’ll meet you there in five minutes,” Brody commands.

I feel the familiar knots form deep in my belly at the thought of what he wants to do with me in my bedroom. We just had sex, but I’m nowhere near satiated, and it seems he isn’t either.

I glance at his friends, silently wishing them luck, before I give in to Brody’s command and head

to my suite. I have a feeling that he’s about to chew his friends out the second I leave, but I don’t care as long as he keeps his promise and is knocking on my door within five minutes. If he doesn’t keep his promise, I might have to punish him for not keeping his word.

I wait in my room for what seems like far longer than five minutes before I finally hear the rattle of his fist on the door. It’s not a patient knock. Instead, it’s an if you don’t open the door in three seconds, I’m going to knock the door down kind of knock. So, as much as I want to swing the door open and jump into his waiting arms, I also want to make him even more pissed off than I’m sure he already is. The angrier he is, the better the sex is going to be. And I want the true bad boy he’s been hiding from me to come out and play.

I make my feet drag on the tiled floor as I walk to the door in nothing but my bikini. I get to the wooden door separating us and take a deep breath as I hear him pound his fist on the door again. He’s pissed. It’s exuding off his body through the door to me. I bite my bottom lip as my lips curl up into a smile. I flip my wavy blue hair out of my face, and then I open the door with an amused smirk on my face as I look at Brody standing there with both hands grasping the doorframe. His face is dark, his nostrils are flared, and his eyes are full of rage. He looks like he doesn’t know whether he’s going to rip the door off the frame or punish me for taking so long to open the door. But I already know the answer. He’s going to punish me. Hard. And I can’t wait.

“Would you like to come in?” I ask smugly.

He drops his hands and walks into my suite, looking around at it like he wants to destroy every sparkling glass, every bottle of wine, every fancy lamp, and every piece of furniture in the room.

“Something wrong with my room?” I ask as I follow him into the bar area, which is large enough to function as a kitchen despite not having an actual stove or oven because there is no way anyone would actually cook on a vacation here.

He takes out a bottle of tequila and pours himself a drink before he turns and glares at me as he rests his back against the counter.

“Nothing’s wrong with your room. I have to remember that you didn’t pay for it.”

“Excuse me? I didn’t pay for it?”

He gulps down the entire glass of tequila. Then, he grabs the bottle and pours some more into the glass. “Nope, you didn’t. Your rich friend did.”

I asked for a bad boy. I asked him to show me no emotions. I just didn’t expect he’d turn into such an ass in a matter of seconds.

“First, I did pay for this suite. So, if your ego can’t handle dating a woman who can afford a much nicer suite than you, you can leave.”

I’ve never been so angry with a man in my life. He doesn’t get to be pissed at me for having money that I earned.

“My ego can handle you making more money than me. I just don’t believe that you do.”

I frown. Hating him. That’s all it took—one comment to make me go from begging for his body every second of every day to hating him.

“Second, you weren’t supposed to Google me. We weren’t supposed to know anything about each other.”

He snorts. “Yeah, just like you weren’t supposed to ask my friends anything about me.”

“I asked one question about you because you already found out a fact about me. I was just returning the favor, but now that I know you were Googling me behind my back, I should have asked a lot more questions. Like why you are such a complete dick.”

His lip twitches at that comment before he drinks down the rest of the tequila.

“Get out!” I say, not able to stand another second of his arrogant, chauvinistic ass.

“No.” He pours himself another drink.

“You don’t get to tell me no. I said, get the fuck out!”

He walks over to where I’m standing in the center of the kitchen, shaking from my anger. He holds the glass out to me, but I knock it onto the floor. The glass shatters as it hits the tiled floor. I don’t care about the glass though. I care about getting this prick out of my life.

“I’ll leave—after you admit what you really want, sweetheart.”

He takes a step closer, and I take a step back until my back hits the counter behind me. He grins like the bastard he is as he traps me with his arms on either side of me, his body pushing up against me.

“I want you to leave,” I say slowly, trying to squash the sparks flying around my body and lighting it up with a fire that only he has been able to start, and I have no idea how to put out the flames. I just want him gone. Then, I can get myself off in my Jacuzzi.

“No. What do you want? You said you wanted a bad boy. You wanted a man who didn’t care about you. A man who takes what he wants from you with no regard for your feelings. You said you wanted a man to make you feel alive again and to make you forget about whatever you came here to forget. But, now that I am that man, you want me to leave. What. Do. You. Want?”