His eyes slid to the bed. Rumpled sheets. Her silence. Her hair. His gaze iced over. "You were with him last night. Here. In this room. In that bed."
The air dropped ten degrees.
She stepped back, an instinctive move. He followed. Doggedly. Until the back of her legs collided with the mattress and there was nowhere left to go.
Then he moved.
His hand closed around her throat with the kind of pressure that left no room for misunderstanding. Not gentle. Not warning. Possession. His big body caged hers, pinning her against the mattress where they both fell, rage blistering just beneath his skin.
"You don’t love him." The words were fractured glass, spoken for her or for him, she couldn’t be sure.
Even with his hand around her throat and the feel of her pulse thrumming against his fingers her defiance still sparked. "...I don’t," she paused. "But I could. You don’t-"
"You didn’t fuck him." A statement. Not a question. But it needed an answer, she could see that in his glacial eyes staring down at her.
"I didn’t. But-" Again her pride tried to push back but he cut her off.
Gavin released her throat, and she sucked in a breath. He stood without a word, eyes still on her as his hand closed around the sheets. One sharp yank, violent and unforgiving. The bedding tore free beneath her.
With his back towards her he spoke, his calm deadly words wrapping around her throat like silk. "Let me be clear. You will never date him or anyone else for that matter."
Chapter eighteen
They were sitting in front of his father’s desk.
When they arrived home that morning, their parents were just pulling in. The set expression on his dad’s face said this wasn’t some random visit—it had a purpose.
The room was somehow always cool, even with the fireplace flickering low. Above it hung the family portrait, the one everyone admired but only Gavin could truly appreciate. The men were standing while in front of them sat two chairs. Ebony sitting in front of him and his mother sitting in front of his dad. Whitney's posture was perfect, her hand up to her shoulder holding her husband's hand, her expression cool and unshaken, as if nothing in the world could touch her. As always Ebony was a softer opposition to her mother. She smiled warmly toward the viewer as she sat poised with her hands neatly folded in her lap.
Gavin always liked this photo. He liked the small secret hidden within it. His hand, not resting casually on her shoulder like he’d been told, but curled, possessively around her neck hidden by her curls. A quiet claim he’d gotten away with. Part of him had done it to mess with her, to see if she’d break her pose. But the other part—the real part—had done it because he needed to. Because she was his. He could still remember the heat of her skin beneath his palm. The tiny tremble she had tried to hide when his fingers had settled over her beating pulse.
Grant leaned forward, the slight creak of the chair focusing Gavin’s attention. He sat behind the desk, fingers laced together, his stare heavy on both of them. "I can’t decide if I’ve come back at the best time or the worst."
Ebony crossed one leg over the other, exuding a casual defiance in a fresh pair of jeans and a yellow blouse that hugged her too well. "I think it’s perfect timing. You prevented your son’s death,” she said, her voice crisp.
The urge to wrap his hand around her slender throat again made his hand twitch.
"And you narrowly escaped being imprisoned," Gavin sneered.
"Enough." Grant’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "I’ve watched you two on the cameras. I've even heard some gossip floating around town. Hell, your uncle Grayson was the one to tell me. So please tell me, what the fuck is going on?"
"He said I couldn’t date!" Ebony shot back, jumping straight to the point as she turned from their father to glare at Gavin. "Who the hell gave you rights over my life?"
"You’re forgetting the setting," Gavin said, his jaw clenching. "Tell him how I spent all night tearing through this town looking for you because someone turned off the GPS on their phone. And where did I find you? In a hotel. With Cameron,” he couldn’t keep the savage growl out of his tone. He watched her blink and look away, the guilty action sending a spike of molten rage through him. “I know he was there. I’ll be having a conversation with him next."
"You were where?" Grant’s voice cut in. They both looked to his darkening expression as he stared at Ebony with wide eyes.
"Dad, it wasn’t like that," she argued, her voice softening a little. "We got stuck on that side of town and booked a two-room suite just to sleep. Fully clothed. Not that it should matter. I’m not Gavin, I’m not bringing girls home to screw in our gym."
Gavin stilled at that. Seeing the pain and anger on her face he inwardly groaned.Fuck. That explained a lot. He had never meant for her to see that.
"Unfortunately, that was also something I saw on the cameras," Grant added flatly, pinning Gavin with a look.
Gavin leveled a stare back at him, he could give two shits if his father saw.
"I’m not the subject here. She is," he pointed at her trying to get him back on track. Why the hell wasn’t he losing his mind that she was at a hotel with Cameron—all fucking night?!
"And why should I be?” Ebony argued. “You think I’m going to sit at home while you treat me like shit and go around doing whatever you please? No.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin defiantly. “You must be out of your mind."
