It’s the perfect handful and I almost come imagining how I’d oil them up, slide my dick between the cheeks and?—
“Yo, Saint!” one of the band shouts, unfazed by my rage at being interrupted. “We’re waiting. You coming?”
I would if you just fuck the fuck off!
Ruby jerks, breaking the kiss, breath ragged. Her cheeks flushed, lips swollen.
“Baby. Please. Let me?—”
Her hand slams on my chest. Twice in quick succession. “No.”
I snarl. At her. At the door, every muscle screaming to rip it off its hinges. I swing around, spike my fingers into my hair and pull at the roots.
It’s that or go against her no, and I’ve never done that, don’t intend to start.
Not with any woman but especially not with her.
But, true fact? I’m not good.
I’ll never be good again.
Not until Ruby Lane is mine.
Ruby
The knock shattersthe moment like a cymbal crash.
I shove at his chest, desperate for air, for space, for sanity.
For a moment I think he won’t budge. That he’ll just keep up with that growl low in his throat, silver eyes blazing like he’s seconds from ripping the door off its hinges before ripping his bandmate to shreds.
“Yo, Saint, you good?” a voice calls again.
Saint. Of course. Because of course he has a nickname like that.
I watch him pace with his fingers in his hair for half a minute before he tips his head toward the door, jaw tight. “Stay here.”
It’s not a request.
He grabs me by the waist, picks me up, which is a hot little feat because I amnotlight or waif-thin by any means.
Then he yanks the door open, stalks out into the hall, and disappears with his bandmate, leaving me pressed against the wall, mouth still tingling from the kiss, brain fried like the world’s worst electrical circuit.
I blink. Once. Twice.
And then I bolt.
Thanking my lucky stars as I book it that my crossbody pouch didn’t go flying when he lugged me around like a piece of wood.
I slip past the distracted guards, my sneakers squeaking on the concrete as I make a break for daylight. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I don’t recognize the ringtones so I know they’re unknown numbers.
They keep coming as I ran all the way to the street. Back-to-back calls. I ignore them.
All I hear is his voice on repeat:Whatever you want, I’ll triple it.
It’s ridiculous. Delusional. Dangerous.
But the thing that haunts me most isn’t the offer of the insane payday.
