By: J. S. Scott

“I have a part to play, but I’m not sleeping with you.” Oh, but I wanted to. If that was a little taste of Trace, I wanted the feast. Unfortunately, I couldn’t gorge. Not with him.

A cocky smirk formed on his lips. “Okay. But I’ll still try to make you want me. I guarantee it.”

I already wanted him. It was physically impossible for my body not to respond to a man like him.

I propped my hands on my hips. “Why?”

“Because I want you, Eva. I want my cock to be buried so deep inside you that you can’t remember your own name, and you beg me to make you come.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but his eyes were still burning green fire.

I slammed my eyes closed, not wanting to visualize that scenario. The effort was unsuccessful. “Not happening.” I opened my eyes again.

“We’ll see.” Trace was still smiling, his expression decidedly smug.

“Besa mi culo.” The insult telling him to kiss my ass in Spanish slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

“Bare it, and I’ll kiss more than just your gorgeous ass,” he promised dangerously.

Damn! I couldn’t even insult him in Spanish because he’d understand every word.

Remembering his powerful grip on my ass, I flushed as my core clenched hard, as though my body was begging me to let him take me. He’d been hard, his cock straining against the confines of his pristine suit pants.

“Not happening.” I tried to sound firm, but to my ears, I was even less convincing than the last time I’d said those same words. Truth was, I wasn’t sure what I’d do if he really pushed my boundaries.

Luckily, I didn’t have to find out.

He put my backpack over his shoulder easily, a burden that had almost made me crumble from the weight.

Trace didn’t say another word as he motioned me out the door of my apartment.

“Do you have another key?” He glanced at me questioningly.

Digging into the zipper pocket of the backpack, I removed the spare key and locked the apartment door, and then put it in the back pocket of my jeans.

“I’ll have fun retrieving that so I can deal with your landlord,” Trace said with a smile in his voice.

Instantly, I reached into my pocket again, grabbed the key, and promptly shoved it under the door. “No, you won’t.” I smiled at him smugly.

He shrugged. “That won’t stop me. But it does kill all the fun.”

Trace’s gaze was teasing, and I found it hard to resist a smiling Trace. I had a feeling it was something he didn’t do often. “If you do, I’ll quit.”

“No, you won’t.” The certainty in his voice was annoying.

Nope. I probably wouldn’t. Now that my apartment was gone, I needed a job to survive. My nose simply tilted up and I rolled my eyes at him. I stomped off to make my way back down the decrepit staircase.

He was right behind me. “Your Latina temper is pretty hot.” His voice was gruff.

Shoving my nose further into the air, I huffed. “You haven’t seen just how hot I can burn.” I didn’t lose my temper often. I couldn’t afford to give it free reign whenever I wanted. But when I was really angry, I could fly off the handle with a lot more of a temper than he’d just seen.

I should have expected his retort; I should have known he’d pick up on the chance to make my defiant comment sexual. My words were going to have to be more closely monitored around him.

“I can’t wait,” he answered smoothly.

Since I had no answer, I hurried down the stairs, the sound of Trace’s wicked laughter following me.


Part of me enjoyed his teasing, the sexual tension that flowed heavily between us. But I couldn’t let it continue. I knew something he didn’t, something that would instantly stop this budding part of our relationship that neither one of us could seem to control.

He has a right to know.

I swung around at the bottom of the stairs, almost colliding with Trace as he reached the ground floor.

“We can’t do this.” My voice was adamant and sad.

“I’m attracted to you, Eva,” he answered candidly.

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not? You’re an attractive woman.”

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