Would telling him to go fuck himself count? Damn. Probably not. “Very well. Get rid of that box for me. Trash receptacle is in the rear alley.” Resisting the urge to cackle in glee, she jutted her chin in the direction of the doorway behind them. This bossing-him-around business might be more enjoyable than she’d anticipated. Maybe when he was done with the box, she’d have him clean out the adjacent supply room.
“No, Avi. Order me to do something to you.”
Her apprehension must have flickered to the surface because his mouth hitched upward at one corner. “You can’t even do it when we’re alone. How do you think you’ll manage when we’re in a room full of people we’re attempting to fool?”
She rubbed her forearms, furious at herself for allowing the small show of weakness. She couldn’t let him know he affected her. Her battered ego would never survive such humiliation. Not again. She sucked in a steadying breath. “Touch me.”
His expression remained bland as a bowl of unseasoned potatoes. “Where?”
Bastard probably expected her to say something lame, like her shoulder. Or maybe—gasp!—her hand. Well she had news for him. If she was going to be faced with torturing herself, he was damn well going down with her. Digging her fingernails into her palms, she steeled her spine. “My breasts.”
An infinitesimal widening of his eyes was Jerrick’s only outward reaction. His gaze immediately strayed to her chest. Her traitorous nipples had the utter audacity to pebble under the encouragement of his stare.
He stood planted in place for an endless moment, leaving her with the certainty he was debating what he’d gotten himself into. Just as she was wavering between disappointment and relief at calling his bluff, he closed the distance between them and splayed his hands over her breasts. She jolted, a shallow breath lodging in her throat.
“React like that in front of the club members and you’ll blow our cover within seconds.”
She didn’t know which infuriated her more, acknowledging he was right, or his need to rub it in her face. “I wasn’t prepared for it. That’s all.”
“I don’t think that’s it.” His fingers flexed before curving beneath the fullness of her breasts, cupping their weight. Despite the thin layers of fabric separating them, his heat seeped into her flesh like a tangible branding. “My touch does something to you. Admit it.”
“Nice to see your ego is as over-bloated as ever.”
“Your smart mouth might say one thing, but the eager way your nipples strain against me tells a different story.”
“I can’t help it they’re sensitive, damn it.” Why did I tell him that? At this rate, she’d be better off sewing her stupid mouth shut.
A glint of awareness flared to life in Jerrick’s pupils. The tension buzzing between them kicked into overdrive. His thumbs brushed oh so temptingly over the rigid nubs of her nipples, and she struggled not to jump out of her skin.
“Better.”
It took a moment to realize the meaning behind that singular gruff word. He’d been testing her.
Well, duh. What other reason would the cold-hearted son of a bitch have for feeling her up? Certainly not for his jollies. He’d made it perfectly clear all those years ago he held zero interest in getting between the sheets with her. Why would he feel any differently now? “See? I’m capable of keeping my shit together.”
His gaze remained skeptical. “We can’t afford slip-ups on this.”
“I told you, I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not merely taking your word for it, Avi. I need to know you can handle the situation—no matter what gets thrown at you.” He glanced at the holographic timepiece suspended on the far wall. “I’ll swing by tonight around seven. We’ll begin training then.”
She frowned. “Training? What the hell does that mean?”
Rather than answer, he dropped his hands and pivoted toward the doorway. “I probably won’t have time to grab something to eat before then, so do me a favor and put in an order for us at the new sandwich shop down the street. I’ll pick the grub up on the way.”
She glared at his retreating back, wishing with every fiber of her being that she’d kneed him in the family jewels when she had the chance. “Did it occur to you I might be busy tonight? Or have a date planned?”
He stalled in the exit, his expression aggravatingly blank. “With who? Orange Shirt from last night? If so, I’m doing you a favor giving you an excuse to break the date with the assclown.”
She bit back a growl, more than a little miffed that he was dead-on with his assessment of Roger. “I hope this training involves whacking you with a paddle.”
“Only if you promise to give it to me hard.” His chuckle infuriatingly smoky enough to stir up provocative scenarios in her head, Jerrick ducked through the doorway and disappeared from sight.
For the next several hours she busied herself shelving the new shipment of handcrafted soaps while attempting to distract herself from the arresting visual of a hard Jerrick. Unfortunately, that line of thinking only led to her mentally dressing him in the tight leather chaps that’d been featured on the flyer from Club Rapture. Without question, he’d look mouthwateringly scrumptious in the outfit. Especially if he was kneeling at her feet.
Or better yet, kissing her feet. Considering the humiliation he put her through, commanding him to do it would be immeasurably satisfying and deserved.
“Hmm, I wonder if sex slaves actually kiss their masters’ feet.” Fetching the last fairy rose soap from the nearby box, she stacked the bar with its mates on the shelf. “Screw it, he’s kissing mine regardless.”
“Kissing your what?” an amused female voice inquired.
Jerking her head, Avily blinked at the woman approaching her. She took in the green eyes so like her own, and a dull roar pounded in her ears. “Leena?”
“Hey, baby sis. How’ve you been?”
Nearly fifteen years ago Leena took off after spinning a web of lies and deceit that broke up not only their family, but Jerrick’s family, and the best she could come up with was how’ve you been?
“What are you doing here?” Thank the gods Jerrick had left when he did. Who knew how he would have reacted to seeing his treacherous ex.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Really?” Avily hugged the basket to her chest. “Because I’ve been here all along. Wouldn’t have been too difficult stopping in and saying hello.”
Regret flickered across Leena’s face. Shoulders drooping, she picked at the split ends on her long blonde braid, her fingers restless. The bell sleeve of her olive-green top fell back, revealing a nasty bruise near her wrist.
“How did you get that?” The words blurted from Avily before she could corral them.
“It’s nothing.” Leena stuffed her hand in the pocket of her pants, a misguided attempt to hide the bruise. “I banged into my kitchen cupboard.”
Avily stared hard at her sister. She knew a flaming pile of dragon crap when she smelled it.
“Looks like you’ve done well for yourself, baby sis.” Leena reached for one of the fairy soaps and sniffed it. “I’m glad one of us has made something of ourselves.” Faint bitterness underscored her tone.
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t— “Everything okay with you?” Ugh, I’ll never learn.
Leena cupped the soap against her chest. “Well, since you asked, I was wondering if you might be able to float me some merca. Just for a month or two. Until I find a job.”
A twinge of pain lanced Avily’s heart. She wasn’t surprised that Leena’s sole reason for returning was based on finances. To say they’d never been close was an understatement. But it didn’t make it hurt any less knowing she was nothing more than a walking bank to Leena. “I don’t have a lot I can give you. Most of my merca is tied up in the shop.”