Rebel’s expression is pinched tight with confusion and outrage. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say he was telling the truth. Almost. But I trust my eyes far more than I trust his word.
“I was drinking, yes,” he says slowly, visibly working to keep his tone level. “But I never—never—invited anyone over, least of all her. What reason would I have to do that?”
I fold my arms over my chest, glaring up at him. “Maybe because you completely overreacted to the situation and wanted to punish me?”
“I admit,” he says, his large hand patting the air between us, “I can be a little hotheaded sometimes, but I still wouldn’t have done what you’re accusing me of.”
“From the looks of it, you were blackout drunk. How the hell do you know what you would or wouldn’t have done?”
His expression evening out, Rebel closes the space between us, placing us chest to chest. In a low, dark voice, he says, “Maybe you’re right. For argument’s sake, let’s say I willfully participated in sexual acts with another woman right under your nose. Are you going to stand here and tell me you’re any better? That you didn’t turn around and do the exact same thing you’re accusing me of?”
My mouth goes dry. “What are you saying?”
He chuckles darkly. “Not so righteous when the tables are turned are we, pussycat?” Lifting his hand, he tucks my hair behind my ears. Then, cupping my jaw, he studies my face with a slow, creeping smile that is absolutely terrifying.
“I saw you leaving my brother’s room that night. Remember what I told you, pussycat?” he asks. Then slowly, he lowers his mouth to my ear as one hand snakes down to cup me between my thighs. “Nobody touches this but me. Who does this pussy belong to?”
A sudden rush of heat pulses through my veins. He knows. My eyes slipping shut, I take a shuddering breath. It’s only a question. A question that has a simple answer. Despite my fury, I can’t resist the temptation he stirs inside me to say it, to tell him exactly what he wants to hear and I desperately want to be true. “You.”
“Who?”
“You,” I repeat, my voice nothing more than a whisper. I should be more upset, worried of what this knowledge means for us, but strangely, I’m not. When it comes to Rebel, I can’t seem to hold onto my anger. The instant he uses that deep, sexy voice, I’m a goner.
Rebel’s actions belie any hint of anger he might be feeling right now. If he’s upset with me, he’s not showing it. Instead, he’s using my inability to deny him against me.
Any anger or fear I might have felt a moment ago is quickly forgotten as white-hot desire blooms throughout my body. This is the Rebel I first met at the hotel, the one who rules my body and mind with his voice alone. I find myself craving his touch, wanting nothing more than to be at his mercy.
“That’s right, pussycat. Me.” Taking my hand in his, he presses it against his rock hard erection. “Just as this belongs to you.” My eyes flip up to find his and despite my earlier conviction, I see the truth bearing down on me. “Just you, Josephine. There isn’t anyone else.”
I know what I saw, and yet I’m torn by my desire to believe what he’s telling me. I may just be lying to myself, but Rebel’s earnest gaze commands me to listen, to hear his truth. And I do. I hear it loud and clear. It clashes completely with the imprint in my mind, but rather than one truth, there are now two jockeying for position in my head. I’m left to decide whether or not I believe me…or him.
A nerve in Rebel’s jaw ticks as he watches me struggle with my thoughts. With a low growl of frustration, he makes a vow. “I don’t know what you think you saw that night, but it’s not what it looked like. I have more integrity than to do that to you or anyone.
“I’ll admit, there was a time when Florence and I were together,” he continues, “but I was young and naïve then. I haven’t seen her in months.
“There’s more to the story than what you told me, and I promise you, I’ll get to the bottom of it. But,” he says, pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger and angling my face up to his, “not tonight. Tonight, you’re mine.”
Crushing his lips against mine, Rebel forces his tongue into my mouth. True to form, he’s not going slowly. He’s not going easy on me. Rebel conquers my mouth in the same manner he will my body—hard, fast, and thoroughly.
“Never walk out on me again,” he growls between kisses. Baring down on me, Rebel plunders my mouth, his tongue darting in and out, licking and teasing, his teeth nipping my bottom lip.
I don’t realize we’re moving until my back crashes into the wall. Pinned between it and Rebel’s unforgiving, relentless pursuit, I have no choice but to surrender. Bending down, Rebel grasps the backs of my thighs and hoists me up. Automatically, I wind my legs around his waist and wrap my arms around his shoulders.
The feel of Rebel’s hard length pressing against my needy core sends a ripple of heat surging through me. Moaning into his mouth, I press tighter to Rebel’s body, trying to soak up as much of him as I can. The need to be closer, to feel his naked skin against mine, is inherent.
Rebel’s questing hands tear at my clothing, delving beneath the thin night shirt and skating up my ribcage to pull it over my head. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he takes my naked breasts into his greedy palms. His eyes blaze with hunger and I throw my head back, gasping his name, as he draws a nipple into his mouth.
Spearing my fingers into his hair, I hold him to me as his tongue circles each taut peak. His teeth bite down gently, sending arrows of pleasure straight to my core. I can feel myself climbing toward release. My head is spinning, every nerve ending firing, and just when I am about to reach the point of no return, my muscles clamping down in preparation, Rebel releases me.
“No, don’t stop,” I cry out, grasping his shoulders, trying to bring him back.
Rebel’s full lips are flushed a deep shade of rose and tilt up in a mocking smile. “You’re a poor hostess, pussycat. You haven’t offered your guest the grand tour.”
My eyes bug out in disbelief. “You want a tour now?”
“How else do you expect me to plot all the surfaces I plan to fuck you on?”
Oh. Renewed excitement ignites inside me. Taking his hand, I pull him through the apartment, giving him the fastest tour on record. “You already know the living room. The kitchen is over there,” I say pointing to it as we pass by on our way into the short hallway. “And down here is the bathroom on your left, guest room on your right, and this room,” I say, throwing open the door to the last door at the end of the corridor, “is my room.”
Turning on my heel, I take hold of Rebel’s waistband and tug him flush against my naked breasts. That damned smirk of his stares back at me and my stomach twinges with nerves. Whenever Rebel looks at me like that, I feel so exposed, yet so damn thrilled. Having his full attention is an aphrodisiac in itself.
“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes,” I tell him as I undo his belt buckle. Dragging the strip of leather free, I fold it in half. Holding both ends, I buckle the material, creating a gap between the two halves, and then pull both ends out in a swift motion. The leather cracks loudly, and I smile as I back up toward the bed. “I’m feeling particularly naughty tonight, Mr. Scott.”
Rebel stalks toward me as he lifts his sweater up and over his head. My gaze drops to his chest, and I lick my lips at the sight of all that bronzed skin.
I’m nervous. We’ve done this before, but never quite this way, never for this purpose. But this is all I have to give, the only way I can think to show him how I’m feeling inside. It’s my way of apologizing as much as it is to bridge the gap that formed in my chest the night I saw him with her. I need that deeper connection to him right now, something raw and powerful enough to obliterate that night from my mind.