Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(33)

She was shaken by his intensity but refused to lose ground. “That’s too bad. I’m not taking it off and being boring old Abby just so you’ll feel better.”

He pinched the skin between his eyes. “Please. Please, angel. Go change.”

Abby didn’t understand the sympathy that crept past her defiance. He looked on the verge of imploding all because of some stupid bathing suit. His broad shoulders shook as he inhaled a deep breath. On the edge. She’d put him on the precipice of breaking, and although she had no idea what would happen when they crossed the line, the inferno licking at her thighs and stomach needed an answer. “Make me,” she forced past trembling lips.

Her words sucked all oxygen from the room. Dread warred with sexual drive on Russell’s face for a moment, but sex won, and it won hard. His features became a granite carving as he cracked his neck once . . . and stormed toward her. A wave of yearning crashed into Abby, so concentrated that she could only watch as Russell’s hands fisted the front of her bikini top and ripped the string between her breasts in two. Snap. The release of material sent her stumbling back a step, her bottom meeting the mattress, but their proximity to the bed only registered in a vague, faraway manner because Russell’s gaze raking over her breasts was suddenly everything.

“You want to show off your pretty tits, you show them off to me.” He planted his fists on either side of her hips. Leaned in so close she had no choice but to recline. “Go ahead, then, stubborn girl. Give them a shake. Give me something to think about while I stroke off tonight across the hall.”

Infused with indignation, Abby pushed up, got right in his face. “Oh, you’re calling me stubborn? I told you on the way here—”

“Do not say it again.” His eyes strayed to the gold triangle between her legs. “God, you were just going to walk around with that scrap of nothing over your *?” He used his knees to shove her thighs wider, growling as the fabric stretched over her center. “No man’s ever licked it but me. No one looks at it but me.” His head dropped, his mouth hovering just above her nipples. “That goes for all of you. Every f*cking inch of this dick-tease body.”

“I’m not a tease,” Abby breathed, absorbing his every word like a greedy sponge but refusing to accept them completely. She’d been nothing but honest with him and resented his playing head games. Tell her to stay away one minute, claiming ownership the next. “You are the tease, and I’m tired of it. Put your money where your mouth is or get off me.”

When Russell only squeezed his eyes shut and released her name through clenched teeth, Abby had experienced enough. Tears burned inside her throat as she shoved him away and escaped off the bed. Desperate for a distraction from the sharp pain in her side, Abby stooped down and snatched up the torn bikini top. With shaking fingers, she attempted to tie it back together.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m wearing it.”

The top was snatched out of Abby’s hands from behind, but when she spun on a heel to give Russell hell, the words died on her lips. No shirt. He’d taken off his shirt and those muscles moved with every step in her direction. With his free hand, he flicked the button open on his jeans and drew the zipper down with a wince. “You calling me a tease, Abby? Look what you do. What you always do.” He reached into his fly and brought out his fisted erection. So big. “Six months of your sitting on my lap. Wiggling around and laughing, no idea I wanted to f*ck you through a wall. Don’t you dare call me a tease. I’ve been teased. I’m so f*cked up, I can’t hear your name without getting hard.”

The flesh between Abby’s thighs felt heavy . . . ready. An electric line sizzled, connecting her nipples to that sensitive spot Russell had once licked so expertly. She wanted him to do it again . . . but some untapped piece of her was stricken by his pain. More so than she wanted pleasure, she wanted to give it. The closer he came, the more her anger at him fell into a distant second place behind eagerness to relieve him. Had he really been so miserable in her presence for so long?

Russell brushed up against her, looming so large, she felt intimidated . . . and liked it? No, she loved his staring down from above, deciding what to do with her. To her. Loved knowing that Russell would decide her fate. Through the burning anticipation, though, she saw worry simmering behind his fierce expression. Knew he’d need to be pushed. Just a little more.

He leaned down and spoke, his lips moving on her forehead. “Apologize for teasing me.”

I’m sorry. So sorry. “No.”

His growl vibrated against her skull. “I don’t know what you’re waking up here.” The torture lacing his tone ripped at her heart, but she stayed silent, waiting for him to speak. “What if it scares you, angel?”

Abby tilted her head back to meet his blazing eyes. “What if it doesn’t?”

A muscle jumped in his cheek, and she witnessed a change come over him. Saw his energy shift and change shape, hardening in some places, softening in others. It didn’t alarm her, though.

No, it felt like she’d been waiting for this side of him to arrive.

Moving so fast, Abby barely had time to register what was happening, Russell grabbed her wrists, positioned them at the small of her back, and—oh God—tied them together with the mangled bikini top. His lack of gentleness and absolute focus on the task turned Abby’s need on its head, whipping the already raging inferno into a frenzied, five-alarm barn burner. Need this. Love this.