Walk Through Fire (Page 44)

In her pretty brown eyes, sex and fear.

Fuck yeah, he got what he was after. All of it.

He didn’t smile, even if he wanted to.

She moved her gaze to his ear, mumbling, “I have to go.”

He pulled out and shoved a hand between them. He shifted her panties back in place, then tucked his dick in his jeans before he pulled her up and set her on her feet, pinning her to the desk so she had it and him to support her. He kept her there, her eyes to his shoulder, one of her hands to the desk behind her, not touching him, as he did up his jeans and she used her other hand to yank down her skirt.

She was closing down but it didn’t matter.

He got what he wanted.

“No rules, Millie,” he reiterated, like a warning.

“I need to clean up,” she told his shoulder.

He lifted a fist to her jaw and gently forced her eyes to him.

“No rules,” he stated.

“I got that, High,” she replied, a thread of defeat in her tone that, fuck it all, he did not like.

“You can end this, you give it up,” he reminded her. “Tell me what the fuck you want so I can say no and we both can move on.”

Determination stole into her gaze as she replied, “You don’t get this but I don’t want anything. And this will end, High, when I finally convince you of that.”

He dipped closer. “Got my hand between your legs, you were soaked for me, Millie.”

“Is that a surprise?” she returned.

“For a woman who wants nothin’ from me, yeah,” he answered.

She scored another hit when she whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

Jesus.

She did not just say that like she meant it.

He stared down at her, the words still ringing in his ears.

Fuck him, she did.

“Mill—” he started to growl.

She cut him off, her tone stronger, “And you’re good at it. You were always good at it. So again, is that a surprise?”

“You want me gone, you’re not gonna pant and beg for it,” he informed her.

“I want you gone but if you’re gonna give it until I can get you gone, it’s that good, I’m gonna take it,” she stated, and finally touched him only to lift a hand, put it to his chest, and put pressure on. “Now, move back. I’m already late. I don’t need to be later.”

Sensing he was going to get nothing more out of this, but having gotten what he wanted anyway, High stepped back.

She quickly moved away from him, toward a door he saw led to a bathroom.

He watched her do it, eyes to her ass, and doing that he decided he was going to go for more and he didn’t care how late she was.

So he told her back, “It wasn’t lost on you, what you did to me.”

She turned and he saw her cheeks still flushed from sex, but the rest of her face was pale and her eyes were guarded.

“ ’Preciate the orgasms, Millie,” he continued. “But cannot get a lock on how any woman could do that to a man, and no matter it’s ten days or twenty years, come back for more. Release me. Tell me your fuckin’ game. If it isn’t as twisted as the last one, you need to get off, I’ll give that to you until I find better.”

The guard went down as anger flashed. “Well, thanks, High. What a sweet offer.”

He lost patience. “Millie, ain’t dickin’ around.”

Then he braced when her expression changed again. It was fast, the suffering that slashed through it before she hid it. But it didn’t leave her and he knew it because it colored her tone.

“You’re released.”

He searched her expression.

Fuck, she meant that.

He felt his shoulders constrict.

“Just like that?” he asked.

“I made a mistake,” she said quietly. “A big one, as it turned out. But it’s been made. There’s no rectifying it.”

“The mistake?” he pushed.

“Coming to see you,” she told him.

Jesus, were they getting somewhere?

“And you did that because… ?” he prompted.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Fucking shit.

More games.

“Millie, this is the fuckin’ game I been talkin’ about,” he clipped.

She flinched, not a communication of discomfort or pain, one of frustration.

But he again didn’t give a fuck.

She was frustrated?

He was too and the woman had started this bullshit.

“Christ, if you’d just spit it out, we’d be done with this,” he reminded her.

She locked eyes with him. “Release me.”

“Jesus, Millie—”

“You’re coming to me,” she pointed out. “Stop it. Release me.”

He threw an arm out to indicate the desk and the shit he swept all over the floor and asked, “Gonna be hard for you to convince me that isn’t the goal you wanna achieve, wrap me up tight in that wet pussy of yours and play with me however you want. I know that game, caught up in it before, so I also know you’re good at it.”

She attempted to instigate another score.

“It’s almost impossible to believe, looking at you, knowing who you are, knowing who you were, and listening to you speak to me like that.”

But that was taking it too far.

And High was not a man who allowed that shit.

Not anymore.

Not since Millie taught him not to do it.

“Fuck, bitch,” he snarled, “you cannot seriously be standing there tryin’ the guilt game on me when you fucked up my whole goddamned life, and like that wasn’t enough, waltzed back into it, you lookin’ for me, to try to do it again.”