Chapter 236
[ 503 words ]
Chapter 236:
He turned his head and looked down at her. The dim light cast sharp, dangerous shadows across the bruised angles of his face.
“If you try to pull away from me on those stairs,” Jarrod whispered, his voice a dark, vibrating threat, “I will pick you up, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you into that dining room in front of the entire staff.”
The vivid, humiliating image flashed in Caroline’s mind. Her stomach dropped. She knew he was completely insane enough to do it. The social death of being hauled into a formal breakfast like a sack of flour was unacceptable.
Caroline locked her jaw. She stopped struggling physically, but the defiance in her gray eyes burned brighter.
She took a slow, deep breath. If she couldn’t win with physical force, she would use psychological warfare.
Caroline suddenly stopped walking. She turned her body so she was standing directly in front of him, blocking his path.
Jarrod frowned slightly, his dark eyes narrowing in suspicion. He didn’t step back. He stood his ground like a stone pillar.
Caroline raised both hands and placed her palms flat against the crisp lapels of his black suit. She slowly slid her fingers upward, stopping at the knot of his silk tie.
She began to adjust the fabric, smoothing out a wrinkle that didn’t exist.
The physical distance between them vanished. They were standing less than four inches apart. Caroline could feel the massive, radiating heat of his chest through his shirt. She could feel the heavy, steady thud of his heart against her knuckles.
𝖱𝘦𝘢𝗱 𝗍𝘩𝖾 l𝖺𝗍𝗲s𝘵 𝘵reո𝗱𝘀 оn 𝗴а𝘭ո𝘰𝘷𝖾𝗹𝘀.𝘤𝘰𝗺
She tilted her head up and offered him a soft, incredibly fake smile.
“Your tie is crooked, Colonel,” Caroline whispered, her voice dripping with sweet, lethal sarcasm. “We wouldn’t want you looking anything less than perfect for your family.”
Jarrod’s throat worked. His Adam’s apple bobbed sharply.
He looked down, his eyes locking onto her soft, red lips.
The cool touch of her fingertips against his neck created a violent sensory clash with the boiling heat of his blood.
Caroline meant to mock him. She meant to use a submissive, wifely gesture to insult his ego.
But as she stood there, wrapped entirely in his shadow, the overwhelming scent of cedarwood and gunpowder flooded her senses. The sheer, raw physical power radiating off his body hit her like a tidal wave.
Caroline’s breath hitched. Her heart rate suddenly spiked, hammering frantically against her ribs.
She realized, with a jolt of panic, that she was playing with fire.
The fake smile vanished from her face. She quickly pulled her hands back, trying to take a step away to break the suffocating tension.
Jarrod did not let her retreat.
His large hand shot up. His long fingers clamped firmly around the back of her neck.
His thumb, rough with calluses, pressed into the sensitive skin just below her ear. His grip was absolute.
His eyes were pitch black, swallowing the dim light of the hallway.
“Since you care so much about my image, wife,” Jarrod rasped, his voice thick with dark desire, “make sure you play your part perfectly tonight.”
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