Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(13)

Keeping her attention locked on him, she reached into his right pocket and pulled out the tea bag he’d placed there. “Motherf*cker.”

Austin caught her just before she could hit the floor. With her final expression of betrayal imprinting itself on his memory to haunt him for life, Austin tucked Polly gently into his side, bringing her feet off the ground as he slid through the emergency exit, lifting her into his arms with ease when they landed in the alley.

“I’m so sorry, sweet.”





Chapter Four


Polly sat at her usual Denny’s booth, palms flat on the table, staring down at the tea bag in front of her. The waitress had brought her a cup of hot water and left, but that had been half an hour ago, so steam no longer rose from the mug. She didn’t remember her three-block walk to the diner, nothing really beyond waking up sprawled on her couch with the tea bag still clutched in her fist.

This. This was what stark humiliation felt like. After what she’d seen her fathers go through at the hands of Charles Reitman, she’d sworn never to be had. Never to be conned or have her decisions dictated by another person. Having that person be Austin Shaw was the stuff of nightmares. Worse…she really hadn’t thought he’d had it in him. Sure, they bantered back and forth. Sure, there was no love lost between them. But underneath the layers of contempt, a modicum of respect must have been reserved with his name on it, because she still couldn’t believe he’d drugged her.

She hated that it hurt. He’d divested her of the ability to function physically or mentally, and a smart man like him knew what a hard pill that would be for her to swallow. Said pill was currently stuck in her throat like a prickly pinecone. Because as pissed as she was at Austin, she was angrier with herself for letting her guard down, two consecutive nights.

And that fact was still a distant second to her having enjoyed those stolen moments on the dark dance floor.

Enjoyed. Ha.

Polly’s mouth became so parched, she couldn’t swallow. With shaking fingers, she reached for the tea bag and dunked it into the lukewarm water. She cast a glance around the half-empty diner, positive everyone could see residual lust coming off her body like steam. Until now, she’d hidden inside the excuse that shunning the physical attraction between her and Austin was necessary so he wouldn’t win. She’d prided herself on being able to resist him when he was accustomed to getting everything he wanted so easily, with a few practiced lines and a smile. Apparently she’d been lying to herself, because even with his incredible looks neatly disguised, she’d been scored by fire the moment he touched her.

There had been a moment that morning while piecing the previous night’s events together where she’d placed the blame for her enthusiastic participation in their dance-floor make-out session on the sedative. But as her head cleared beneath the shower spray, she’d felt it. Desire climbing up her thighs and setting up shop in her stomach, tickling out like a fistful of feathers. Even now, recalling the way he’d planted his hands above her and let her look, biceps flexing against the backdrop of the writhing dance floor. The way he’d groaned at her exploring touch. His…his stiff, protruding erection.

Yeah. Austin might have been playing a part—for what reason, she intended to find out—but there’d been no pretense on either of their parts during the kissing.

You want to order me around?

Polly took a long sip of cold tea, a paltry attempt to cool herself down. That question, posed with such gruff desperation, haunted her. Made her insides vibrate like a tuning fork. What would it be like to wield control over a man like Austin? She’d never attempted to impose her will in bed, except for a few rare occasions when she’d dipped her toe in and been greeted with laughter. There was no shaking the bone-deep intuition that Austin would respond the way she’d once fantasized about a man doing, but had never experienced. The way his eyes had slid closed when she shoved the T-shirt into his mouth…the memory had Polly crossing her legs together and swallowing a groan.

What. A bastard. For taking a chunk out of her pride. For making her want him even more. For knowing exactly the buttons to push. How? How had he known what would make him infinitely more irresistible to her?

She meant to give Austin straight-up hell as soon as she shook the heavy cloak of humiliation. Other than the shame living in her gut just knowing that he’d bested her, the only thing keeping her from tracking Austin down right this moment—before the sun had even completely risen—was the fact that she’d been fully clothed upon waking. If he’d removed so much as one high heel, it would be lodged in the side of his neck by now.

That satisfying image popped like a bubble when Erin fell into the booth across the table, lifted her hands like she’d just won an Olympic race, and shouted, “Pancakes!”

“Good morning to you, too.” Polly lifted her mug of tea for another sip, but grimaced and set it back down. “You know, they hate us in here. Between you setting napkins on fire and me having a staring contest with the wall, we’re bound to be voted off the Denny’s island sooner or later.”

“Listen to me very carefully.” Erin leaned forward. “Is the wall talking back yet? I can coach you through this.”

Polly considered saying yes, just so Erin could distract her with imaginary wall communication instructions, but she shook her head. “So far, it’s giving me the silent treatment.”