A Game of Vows by Maisey Yates Page B

doesn’t sound like you, either.”
    “Yeah, well, making stupid financial decisions doesn’t sound like you, and yet here we are.”
    She chanced a look at his face. His expression was hard, his lips set into a grim line. She’d gone too far again. She knew that. But she wasn’t opening the door on her past. She just wasn’t. She couldn’t.
    He gripped the arms of the chair and turned her so that she was facing him. “Stupid? Stupid decisions? Is that what you call them?”
    “I was making a point.” She slid the chair back and stood. The idea was to bring her up to his level. But since her eyes only met his chest, the only point it served to make was that, even in three-inch heels, she was a whole lot smaller than he was.
    “Then you won’t mind if I make one of my own.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her against him, her breasts coming into contact with his chest. He raised his hand, brushing his shaking thumb over her lip, the gesture shockingly gentle given the heat and anger visible in his eyes.
    The rage in him was palpable, satisfying in a way. She’d brought him to the brink with her words. His muscles trembled as he held her. She waited. For his lips to crash down on hers. Rough and painful. The way it often was with men when they lacked control or were just too turned on to think straight. The way it most certainly would be with him so angry.
    But there was no crash.
    He dipped his head, his lips a breath from hers. The breath fled her body, all her focus diverting to him. He was so close. So tempting. She found her face tilting so that her mouth could meet his, found herself giving in. Giving up.
    His lips were hot, firm. And suddenly, he wasn’t holding her to him anymore. She’d melted against him. His tongue slid against the seam of her mouth and she opened, heat flooding her, making her core tighten, her breasts feel heavy. He wrapped his other arm around her and she lifted her hands, pressing them on his hard chest.
    He angled his head, deepening the kiss, tightening his hold on her. She whimpered and freed her hands, sighing when her breasts met his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair, holding him to her.
    He devoured her, and she returned the favor. Never, not in their six months of marriage, had they kissed like this. Nothing more than proprietary pecks for public displays. A slightly more intimate kiss on their wedding day, since they’d had an audience.
    But this was just them. Alone. And there was no control. No thought. She hadn’t even tried to maintain her hold on either, she’d simply released them, and drowned in his kiss.
    Then, just as suddenly as he’d embraced her, he released her, his eyes dark black pits that seemed to draw her in and repel her at the same time. And she realized she didn’t have half the hold over him as he did over her.
    “The point I was making,” he bit out, his tone rough, strained, “is that you might not like me, and you might want to think that I’m somehow stupid, but we both know that I have the power here.”
    She took in a shaking breath. “You … bastard.”
    “Don’t forget it. I’m not a boy you can manipulate. I’m not the foolish idiot I once was who might have been distracted by a pretty face.” He turned away from her, heading out the door. “Let me know what you find.”
    She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. As soon as he exited the office she pounded her fist on the desk, letting the sting alleviate the burn of humiliation that had taken over.
    She wouldn’t let him make a fool of her like that. Never again.
    Eduardo drew a shaking hand over his face. He had not meant to do that. He had not meant to touch her, or kiss her. He hadn’t meant to lose control.
    Rage had been a feral beast inside of him, pushing him,driving him. Rage, and then, the hot surge of lust that had tipped him over the edge.
    His body burned. He’d been so close to pushing her on the