Chapter 26 – Remi #2
The problem is that I’m not trying nearly as hard as I could. His gaze drifts down my body before slowly returning to my face.
“Why are you so stubborn?” he asks, his mouth brushing my ear. “I’m done, Remi.”
“Done?”
“Yeah.” His voice drops. “Done being nice.”
Heat rushes through me at the threat in those words, which only pisses me off even more.
“Are you now?”
He nods as his nose trails along the side of my throat, and my eyes close despite every reason they shouldn’t.
“Você é uma fera,” he murmurs against my skin.
A beast. A wild thing.
And coming from him, it sounds nothing like an insult.
I take a moment to steady my breathing before trusting myself to speak.
“What do you want from me?”
His lips graze mine, barely there, and the inhale that leaves him sounds almost tortured.
Some ridiculous part of my brain chooses this exact moment to be grateful I never touched the coffee Matteo made me. I guess coffee breath is where I draw the line while pinned beneath a man I was trying to punch thirty seconds ago.
His entire body stiffens as if he’s fighting for control just as much as I am. But instead of destroying the last fragile shred of restraint between us, he shifts his weight and flips me onto my stomach.
“What the fuck?”
My cheek meets the floor as he pulls my wrists behind my back. I twist beneath him, but cold metal locks around one wrist before I can wrench myself free.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
The second cuff clicks into place. After everything I went through last night, being handcuffed again sends my temper straight through the fucking roof.
“Thiago,” I warn, struggling against his grip, “if you keep these on me, I will slit your throat at the first chance I get.”
“I know you will.”
The bastard actually sounds sincere. His hands close around my waist, and he hoists me over his shoulder like a sack of goddamn potatoes.
Oh, he’s fucking dead.
“Put me down,” I snap, kicking against him. “And uncuff me. Now.”
“Not until you hear me out first.”
There’s a saying for situations like this. Something about keeping a cool head and playing the game long enough to get what you want.
If violence isn’t solving your problems, you’re not using enough of it.
No, that’s definitely not the one.
Something about catching flies with honey instead of vinegar.
That’s the one.
I stop fighting and consider my options.
The sooner I cooperate, the sooner he’ll let me go, and then I can properly throat punch him.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll let you have your little kink. Just know this won’t end well for you.”
A laugh rumbles out of him before he drops onto the sofa with me still thrown over his shoulder, then shifts me across his lap as if it takes no effort at all.
Deeply offensive.
Even worse is how quickly my body reacts to being pressed against him.
You are not actually falling for this caveman bullshit, are you?
Unfortunately, I absolutely am.
I keep my expression flat anyway and glare at him.
“Talk fast.”
“First,” he says, one hand resting firmly against my hip, “I owe you an apology for last night. I shouldn’t have asked that question when I did.”
I look away as if I’m completely unaffected, trying very hard not to focus on the fact that this man is obnoxiously large and painfully warm beneath me.
“I came here because I wanted to see you.” He pauses. “And because I wanted to be the first to tell you what happened.”
The change in his tone pulls my attention back to him.
“What happened now?”
He hesitates before answering. “Your mugshot is trending.”
I stare at him for a breath, then smile.
“As it should. What can I say? Give a girl the perfect red lip, and she’ll rule the goddamn world.”
Thiago rolls his eyes. “I’m glad you find this amusing. You haven’t seen the vile shit people are saying online.”
“Why would I care what a bunch of strangers think about me?”
“Of course you don’t. You’re fucking reckless.”
I still don’t know what to make of this man. I tell him to leave, and he refuses. I swing at him, and he cuffs me. Now he’s sitting here pissed off because strangers on the internet are looking at me.
Maybe I’m done trying to figure him out. And maybe I’m done fighting whatever this is between us too. A smile curves across my mouth as I lean closer and brush my lips along the edge of his jaw.
“You know, Officer Braga,” I say softly, “what if the only opinion I care about is yours?”
His hand leaves my waist, and he waits until my eyes meet his before grabbing a handful of my ass and pulling me tighter against him. The sudden movement steals my breath as his other hand slides around the back of my neck and into my hair.
“Well?” I whisper. “What do you have to say?”
“What do you want to hear?” His grip on me tightens. “That I fucking hate knowing your face is all over the internet for every asshole to fantasize about?”
“Why?” I ask, rolling my hips just enough to test him.
His nostrils flare as he draws a slow breath.
“Because they don’t deserve you,” he says, his voice dropping. “You don’t belong to them, Remi.”
“No?”
“Fuck no.”
A smile threatens my lips, but I hold his gaze as I move against him again.
“And exactly who do I belong to, Officer Braga?”