Chapter 18
eighteen
ROSE
My body is filled with bliss when I wake up. I release a happy sigh and stretch, moaning when my pussy aches with the reminder of Dare. He fucked me two more times, and each time, I broke, screaming his name, despite trying my best to deny him the satisfaction.
But he had no qualms about weaponizing pleasure against me, using it to drag me into submission until I gave him everything he wanted. If I had known hate sex would be this explosive, I might’ve tried it sooner.
When was the last time I felt this relaxed?
He’s still another man trying to use you.
The thought sobers me. Even if the sex is good, I have to remember how I got here. My original plan was to use what little information I had against Dare so that I could finally be the one in control of my life. But now, with the tables turned, I’ve lost that opportunity.
A scowl settles over my face. This is my dad’s fault. If he had kept his promise, then none of this would have had to happen, but then again, am I really that surprised? The business has always come first.
I guess the little girl that made Dad swear to never force me into marriage still had faith. My eyes burn. I’m not used to resenting my dad, and I don’t like the unease churning in my gut.
Even Dad marrying my mom was all about the company.
What would she think of everything he’s done?
Would she support Dad, or would she fight for my right to pick my own partner?
Was she miserable or was she happy?
Did my dad try to control her, too?
Shaking the turbulent thoughts from my head, I stretch again. This bed is so comfortable. The silky sheets are smooth against my skin, and another soft breath slips past my lips. My hand hits a hard body. I freeze and slowly turn my head. Dare is watching me with narrowed eyes and irritation creasing his brow.
The look raises my hackles. “What?” I snap, slipping into the familiar ice queen mask. So much for feeling relaxed. Turns out, my fears of sex making me stupid for him were unfounded. He still bugs the shit out of me.
Dare pushes up on one arm and leans over me, studying my face as I press into the mattress. He is very naked, and so am I beneath the sheet.
“What are you doing?”
He arches his scarred eyebrow. “Trying to figure you out.”
“Why?”
Somehow, his hand finds its way around my throat, a pretty, tattooed necklace that has my heart skipping a beat. Dare smirks, like he knows exactly what his touch does to me. Hovering his face inches from mine, he bumps my nose with his.
“Tell me why you’re looking at me like you hate me this morning, when, last night, you begged for my cock, wife .”
I scoff. “If you think fucking me is going to make me like you, you’re mistaken.”
He smirks and climbs on top of me, planting his free hand by my head and settling his hips on mine, rubbing his erection over my center as he uses the hand around my throat to keep me in place. “No, but maybe I can fuck the attitude out of you.”
Desire pools in my core. He may be a monster, but he knows how to keep a woman happy. The question is: why does he want to have sex with me ? This man could arguably have any woman he wants. Plenty of married men go outside of their marriage. Last night was about him winning, but this morning is different. This morning, with light filtering in through the curtains, the room brightening, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement, is not about bringing me to heel.
The sex was amazing. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who thinks so, but it’s too soon to give in to him again.
“Careful, Dare, or I might start to believe you like me.”
Rearing back, like he finds the possibility as horrific as I do, he flexes his fingers. “Always a Miller,” he mutters before releasing me and getting off the bed. He scoops up a pair of sweatpants from the floor and tugs them on.
“Where are you going?” I ask, face scrunching. I don’t know why it bothers me that he’s leaving.
He glances back at me, shakes his head, and heads into the en suite bathroom. In the time it takes him in there, I slip out of bed and search for clothes. Mine are nowhere to be found. The dress from last night is somewhere on the lower level. Whatever. Marching into his closet, I yank one of his white T-shirts off the hanger and pull it on. The fabric barely covers my ass.
I reach for a drawer of his dresser to search for boxer briefs, but a sharp, “Don’t” has my hand pausing on the pull. My gaze cuts to Dare, standing in the entryway of the walk-in closet, eyeing me like I might be his next meal.
“You might be my husband,” I say, voice carefully controlled as I tug the drawer open. “But you have no right to tell me what to do.” Snatching the boxer briefs, I tug them on and glare at Dare.
He’s clenching his fists at his side. Aw. Is the beasty mad I’m not listening to him?
Too bad, so sad. His clothes fit me a little too well. I frown and ignore the surge of self-doubt. I’ve never been super skinny, and Dare, while bulky, is super fit. His middle is solid and mine is soft.
“You’re thinking too loud.”
I glare at the bane of my existence. “Sorry, I was plotting your murder.”
“Two in one week? Here I thought I was a ruthless killer, but it looks like I have some competition.”
The quip has me curling my upper lip. “You’re not cute.”
He smirks. “Liar.”
“Fuck you.”
“I thought you said you didn’t want to?”
That’s not what I said , I almost snap back, but I stop myself before I give him more ammunition. More of my truth. More of these volatile reactions I can’t seem to control around him. “Are you going to keep picking a fight with me, or can we go eat? I’m hungry.”
He tips his head but lets the deflection slip by without calling me out. “I can make breakfast.” The doubt must show on my face, because Dare narrows his eyes in challenge.
It’s the same look he gave me in the limo before I crawled into his lap.
My throat goes dry, and a flush crawls up my neck, but Dare is already heading out of the bedroom, leaving me to face my traitorous thoughts alone.
Dare is busy making breakfast while I’m busy pretending he doesn’t exist. Watching him chop the potatoes and onions without a shirt on is enough to make my mouth water. I have to stop letting him get inside my head, so I’ve turned away from him as I scroll through my phone.
My heart stutters when I see the missed calls from Dad. I’ve been avoiding him for the better part of a week, but that’s all coming to an end on Monday. Dare made sure Eric’s body was taken care of, so, for all my dad knows, Eric is ignoring him too.
There’s nothing Joseph Miller hates more than being ignored.
Stomach churning, I tap into the voice messages notifications, but there aren’t any new ones from Dad. If he’d left a message, scolding me, that would make me feel better, in a way. At least then I’d know what to expect.
Not knowing how pissed he is or what he’s thinking makes my hands shake. And his current anger will only grow once I tell him about my little arrangement. Will Dad think I’m betraying him? I’m not. I still have every intention of taking Dare down. I am frustrated with my dad, but my loyalty to him and JD Miller & Co is intact.
One night of glorious sex won’t change that .
Focusing on anything but the forthcoming confrontation, I check my other notifications. Twenty missed texts from Cassia. Fuck. Last she knew, I was sneaking into Dare’s house. The messages start out curious and grow more worried, with the last being a threat to call the cops. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I tap out a quick reply, arranging to meet her later today, when I can find a way to get away from Dare.
So far, my dear husband hasn’t tried to trap me inside the house, but he knows the fear of him turning me in for Eric’s murder is enough to keep me in line.
Bastard.
I scowl at him over my shoulder, stiffening when I find his gaze on me as he leans on the counter next to the stove, sipping his coffee as the potatoes cook. His biceps bulge as he takes his drink, and my eyes slip over his muscled torso, devouring every inch of his naked skin as a fresh wave of lust crashes through me.
Stop. He’s figured out how to manipulate you, Rose. Be smart.
“Thirsty?” Dare asks.
My cheeks burn. “You don’t have to be such a smug asshole.”
“I was asking about the coffee.”
I give him a pointed look. Maybe, but he was also teasing me, and the way his mouth tips into a smirk is enough to tell me I’m right. “Two creams, one sugar.”
“Say please.”
“If your food didn’t smell so good, I’d knee you in the nuts.”
Dare reaches for a mug with a laugh. The sound smooths over my skin and settles in my chest. “Close enough. ”
I watch him fix my coffee, freezing in place when he walks around the island. There’s no need for him to come over here. He could have handed it to me. He could have slid it across the counter. But Dare stalks toward me with a determined gleam in his eye. Shifting, so he’s not at my back, I scowl at him as he steps close enough to press between my legs.
He places the mug at my lips. The ceramic is warm against my lips, and I press my mouth into a thin line in protest. The delicious and fragrant aroma of coffee wraps around me. God, that smells good.
“Drink.”
Asshole.
When he lifts his eyebrows, I see his silent vow to stay in the position until I comply.
It’s caffeine, not corporate secrets. This isn’t a hill to die on.
I part my lips and place them on the edge of the mug—because the coffee smells divine and not because he told me to do so. Dare helps me take a small drink with a twisted look of triumph on his beautiful face. My chest clenches, but I quickly shove away whatever that feeling is.
There’s no room in our marriage for anything other than hate.
“You listen so well, princess.” Dare places the mug on the counter beside me and grips my chin with his fingers, holding me in place and sealing his mouth over mine, devouring my surprised gasp. He growls into my mouth, tongue lashing at mine. A force that’s hard to deny. My hands fly up to grip his forearms. I dig my nails into his flesh, and he presses closer, rocking his thick and hard length into me. His other hand necklaces my throat, putting me completely at his mercy.
I melt, despite myself .
My clit pulses, and a low moan claws its way out of my throat.
Dare swallows it with a laugh and breaks the kiss, walking away and taking every ounce of warmth with him. Ice shoots through my veins. He’s playing dirty.
And if that’s how it’s going to be, I can be just as ruthless.
Dare is going to regret the day he married me.