Bartered by Pamela Ann Page A

flirty devil may care kind of slut.”
    My rose tinted lips hung ajar , shocked from his verbal accusations. “I beg your pardon?” I shook my head in disbelief, uncertain if I should strangle him or kick him to the curb. “How dare you! How. Bloody. Dare. You!”
    “I fucking dare because you’re mine!” he growled loudly, uncaring if there was an audience about, willing to eavesdrop. “For the next twenty three weeks, you are solely mine and mine alone! And I don’t appreciate you flaunting and flirting what is rightfully mine.” He punctuated each word as if it was the law.
    Hold on, I thought as I blinked rapidly, hoping I was hallucinating his word vomit.
    “Tell me that you’re drunk and needed a good laugh . Because the rubbish that’s coming out of your twisted mouth is rather nauseating.”
    A dry laugh came out of him, looking less amused. “How about you tell me that you’re drunk, which is why you danced on the table like you worked for a strip club.”
    If I could produce steam , it would’ve come out of my ears already. The bastard had just crossed the proverbial line. So I slapped him. Hard. The stinging hot impact of my palm smacking against his cheek wasn’t satisfying enough, though.
    “First off , this is temporary. I signed to be your plaything, but under no circumstances did it state that I’m to be your property,” I grated out with my finger pressing against his chest. “I have my own mind; it’s my right to do whatever I want to do. I don’t care about what you think. In fact, go ahead and think of me as a slut. I don’t bloody care! To hell with your barbaric mentally—”
    I was in the middle of my overture when the bastard kissed me like I was his posse ssion.
    I was royally mad yet wickedly aroused. Dear God, the bastard could kiss. He kissed me in a way that felt like all my thoughts and all the mechanics of my brain had melted away, and all I could fathom was his lips and how he made me feel.
    Then , out of nowhere, I felt something vibrate.
    It was his phone.
    Snapping out of my entranced funk, I yanked my lips away from him before I gasped for air, finding it hard to believe what had just occurred between us. “What the— you fucking kissed me! ” I hissed at him accusingly, beyond mortified.
    “What? It’s not in the contract, too?”
    My heart was galloping mad ly against my chest, and as much as I wanted to hate him, I couldn’t deny the fact I had responded to his kiss. However, I couldn’t let it happen again.
    Breathing raggedly, I felt the shame and horror of what had happened. The situation between us was getting out of hand. We were supposed to be indifferent to each other. This odd, zinging connection shouldn’t be toyed with; it was too dangerous. Besides, too much was at risk, and I couldn’t lose the only person that had kept me going all this time. Fancying Hugo wasn’t part of the equation.
    “You—you shouldn’t do that.”
    He seemed unperturbed as he cupped my face and stared into me. “I don’t care,” he fiercely murmured. “So sue me.”
    I nervously panted, feeling out of my depth. Words of protest formed into mind , but he managed to hijack my thoughts for the second time the moment he connected his lips with mine once more. This time, he devoured me like a meal, consuming me whole.
    His kiss was rough , yet it held sweetness. It was as hard as it was passionate. It was as much fire as it was ice. It drowned me as it floated me into thin air. The world spun, and in that instant, I felt everything. He made me feel everything, vibrating it through my veins, all over my body.
    He paused with our lips pressing against each other . “Isobel…” he groaned out, sounding pained.
    With my eyes closed, I felt at the tip of surrender , but there was still a little fight in me. “What are you doing?”
    “I’ve tried to stop , but I’m done fighting it,” he confessed with ferocity, with passion. “I want you,” he vehemently