Code of Control by Jevenna Willow Page B

wish to hell you
would stop pushing me away. I need the sex. If you’re not willing to give it to
me, I will just have to look elsewhere, won’t I?”
    “You wouldn’t do
that to me now,” he warned.
    She slipped out
of his reach, standing up, her towel slipping enough to make a grown man cry. Her
sad eyes said one thing, her body language another.
    All he could do
was staring at her lusty chest, lowering his attention to her sexy legs in
slow, torturing motion.
    “Sorry to burst
the angelic bubble you’d hung over my head, but I would, and it’s the one thing
about me even you can’t control,” she threatened.
    She then stormed
into his house, yelled for Devon, and Nolan never saw either until the
following morning, his conscience wanting to call her bluff, his guilt wishing
she would abandon the idea of changing a man to her liking.
    No woman ever
had, although plenty of women tried since his ex-wife’s death, and even if it
possible, he was not going to let it happen without a fight.

 
     
    Chapter Ten
     
     
    Why he never
thought Devon would do it to him again was beside the point. The fact Charlotte
was doing it to him made Nolan’s blood boil come the morning.
    He strode toward
the barn at four-thirty, his stomach tied in knots and his mood beyond that of
a snapper’s jaws firmly around a man’s engorged pecker. He hadn’t dared get her
out of bed, knowing she would be in Devon’s bed, using his twin for what he should
have been used for. The moment she and Devon disappeared into an abyss of possible,
likely probable sexual exploration, Nolan declared war on the two. Therefore, he
was flabbergasted to find Charlotte in the barn, sitting on a bale of hay,
dressed for morning chores. She looked up at him, gave him a soft smile, and then
stood.
    “About time you
show up,” she said. “I don’t know how to do this myself.”
    Nolan could not
force his mouth to work and actually talk to her. He stormed past her, reaching
for the gate to let the cows in.
    She walked
toward him, sidestepped the bovines as they entered, gaining their stalls, and then
waited with her arms behind her back as the gate closed.
    “I have all day.
You can either talk to me now, or continue hating the world until it proves you
right,” she said.
    He stopped dead
in his tracks, staring at her; opened and closed his mouth. “I don’t hate the
world,” he reluctantly admitted.
    Charlotte’s
brows arched. “No?”
    He had to look
away. Everything in her eyes was proving him wrong and her right, and a right
woman was an unbearable woman before five a.m.
    Even if he did
hate the world, more importantly the fact he lost her by default to a man who
could not keep it in the pants longer than five minutes, calling him out on
this was not in her best interest. He thought of nothing else last night but Charlotte
and Devon doing the nasty, when it could have been him and she— was he
and she for one incredible night. The woman practically begged him to make love
to her last night and he foolishly pushed her away. What was wrong with him?
    “Why are you out
here? I thought you’d want to stay in bed.” He grabbed the bale of hay she’d been
sitting on. He ripped it apart, using most of it to feed the calves. Everywhere
he went for the next five minutes she was hot on his heels. Dammit. He was in
no mood to have a female bloodhound breathing down his neck.
    “Why would I
want to stay in bed and miss all this?” she said, making a sweep of her arm,
yet the wrinkling of her nose disclaimed the lie.
    His head tipped
up. “As you can see, I’m not in a talkative mood this morning.”
    “Really? I can’t
tell,” she quipped. “I thought this was your usual personality before the sun
rises. It’s all I’ve seen of you thus far.”
    Nolan took a
step back, standing tall. He ground the backs of his teeth until his jaw ached.
“What do you want from me, Charlotte?”
    “I don’t want
anything from you. You said I was to do this