Jaz ran her hand over the Land Rover’s leather armrest. Jaz couldn’t exactly blame Liam for his simmering fury, but she wasn’t sorry about what she’d done either. After what Solana had told her, Jaz needed to get more information—and interrogating Dior and Tiffany had been her best bet at the time. Not that it worked. Equally unfortunately, Liam was too smart to have missed what she’d been trying to do. By the time they finished drinks and walked out of the club, the storm brewing behind his eyes threatened to blow them both to the land of Oz.
Jaz’s stomach tightened as Liam pulled into the garage and led the way to the elevator. Time to confront him was running out, and she still didn’t have a plan for calming things.
Liam unlocked the door, let them both inside, and clicked the dead bolt into place.
“Thank you for the evening.” Jaz stretched like a cat and let out a sleepy yawn. If she could delay until morning, the weather might change. “I’m off to bed.”
“Like hell you are.” Liam’s arm shot out, blocking her way. He had those damn shoulders spread out again, and the taut muscles pressed against the silk of his shirt, sculpting the fabric. “So, Dior, is Liam as good with a flogger as you are?” Liam pitched his voice up in imitation of hers. “What are his favorite scenes? What the hell was that about?”
She put her hands on her hips and tipped her head up to look at him. The difference in their sizes was sometimes damn inconvenient. “So I asked your friends some questions. Not that Dior and Tiffany actually answered any of them. That’s what normal people—that is, people who aren’t you—do when they meet each other. It’s called conversation.”
A muscle in the side of Liam’s jaw ticked. “We didn’t go to Shadow Cove so you could explore my preferences. We went because you wished to explore yours.”
Though Liam hadn’t moved a muscle, it felt like he was closing in on her. Taking control of her body without laying a finger on her. The proximity, mixed with the memory of Liam’s iron grip and his intoxicating male musk, was making Jaz’s thighs clench all over again.
The man’s ability to turn her on, to know more about her body than she did, was uncanny. And unfair. And all too powerful. Especially when measured against how little he divulged about himself.
Jaz swallowed. Shifted her weight. “Look, thank you for taking me to Shadow Cove.” Her words rushed over each other. “I thought I’d be interested by that stuff. I wasn’t. Sorry you didn’t get laid.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Liam’s voice came in a low kind of growl that sent vibrations along her skin. “Why did you run from Dior’s scene? What happened in that restroom to turn you into a budding journalist?”
“Let me pass.” Jaz shoved against Liam’s arm. “I’m not playing your games.”
“My games?” He held his place. “You’re the one playing games tonight, Jazmine. I just want to know why the damn rules changed.”
“I discovered you’re an asshole. And I don’t play with assholes. Good enough?”
“Not nearly.” Instead of backing away, Liam leaned his other palm against the wall, trapping Jaz between his outstretched arms. Her heart pounded against her ribs. His nostrils flared. “You knew I was an asshole before we went. An asshole that I know made you dripping wet in there.”
Jaz’s hand flew up, aiming for Liam’s face. He caught her wrist in midmotion and pinned it to the wall behind her. Jaz struck again, and Liam pinned that hand as well. His face hovered before hers, their breaths mixing.
“You want to try that again?” Liam said.
Jaz’s knee came up. Hard.
Liam twisted his leg, taking the blow with his thigh. With the next breath, Liam twisted her around and cracked his palm against the seat of her jeans.
The sound cracked through the hallway.
Jaz gasped. And then gasped again as the hot sting enveloping her ass became not altogether unpleasant. Which infuriated her even more.
“You—” She twisted back with a snarl, her heart pounding through her chest. Her backside. Her blood.
“Me what?” Liam’s mouth was so close that the words tickled her skin. Gripping her shirt, Liam pressed Jaz against the wall behind her and kicked her ankles apart, taking her balance until it was only his hold keeping her upright.
And fuck it, she liked it. Even as she hated liking it.
“You asshole.” She bared her teeth.
Closing what was left of the distance between them, Liam sealed his lips over hers. Jaz kissed him back hungrily, her head swimming. Somewhere deep in her core, a primal need roused to the invasion, making every sensation a thousand times more potent, especially Liam’s dizzying taste.
Jaz couldn’t think. The kiss deepened, pillaging her mouth, and she raked her nails down Liam’s back in vengeance for the assault on her senses. For turning her own body against her. Damn him. Damn him to hell.
Liam growled against her mouth. His hands cupping her still-tingling backside, he lifted her onto his hips, Jaz’s legs wrapping around him on instinct. The man’s hardness pressed against her, the pulsing of his cock evident even through clothes.
In a few swift steps, Liam carried her into the kitchen. Sitting her on the edge of the kitchen island, he pulled away, his breath ragged. With obvious, deliberate effort, Liam braced his hands on either side of her hips, his greater height letting him loom over her despite the perch.
“This would be a very good time to leave,” Liam whispered, the words straining his throat. “Otherwise, your ass is mine—and I will let it know exactly how I feel about tonight.”
Jaz’s backside clenched, heat rushing along her sex and pooling low and desperate in her belly.
“I don’t take orders.” Tangling her hands in his hair, she took his mouth, her tongue assaulting his in defiance and challenge and deep, unbearable need.
With the next heartbeat, Liam snatched Jaz off the table and flipped her facedown onto the cool countertop. With a powerful hand pressing down on her back, he yanked off her shoes, jeans, and panties until she was bare from the waist down, bent over the counter, legs dangling in the air.
Jaz gasped, the sudden vulnerability of the position sending her rearing back, only to discover that Liam’s steel hold had pinned her down. Yet, the restraint somehow drove her arousal, making her breath come in sharp pants.
Moisture dripped from her sex, slithering along her heated skin.
Liam’s knee roughly parted her legs, his hand sliding over Jaz’s inner thighs. A little higher and he’d find the moisture coating her inner thighs. A moisture that left humiliatingly little to the imagination about what turned her on. Jaz arched, fighting the inevitable.
Instead of retreating, Liam slid his hand between her folds, running it up and down her slickness with the same possessive authority as Dior had done earlier with Tiffany. Jaz’s sex clenched, arousal rushing all the way down her legs. Curling her toes. Too much. Too strong.
Her cheeks flamed. “I hate you.”
His hand lifted off her backside and came down with a hard smack.
“Fuck,” Jaz yowled, fire exploding across her right cheek.
He slapped the other side. Again. Again. And then, just as the pain rose to a pinnacle, he flicked her clit, and the all-consuming sting morphed to molten pleasure. Oh God. Close. She was so impossibly close to a release she couldn’t let happen. Not like this.