“I didn’t touch her,” he blurts.
Royal doesn’t blink.
Doesn’t breathe.
Doesn’t break eye contact with me.
“Good,” he says.“Because I would’ve noticed.”
A dark thrill curls low in my stomach.
Oaks mutters something under his breath and bolts down the hall, too rattled to hide how shaken he is.
The second he’s gone, Royal shuts the door.
Hard.
I lift an eyebrow.“Jealous?”
He doesn’t answer.
He stalks toward me, slow and deadly, like he’s fighting the urge to throw me over his shoulder and drag me into his shadows.
“Don’t bait them,” he growls.
“Why not?”I ask, stepping closer.“Afraid someone else might see what you won’t touch?”
His breath stutters.He's gritting his teeth.His fingers twitch toward the knife again.
“Becki,” he warns, but it sounds more like a plea.
I grin.“You walked in here like you were gonna kill him.”
“I was,” he says.
“Your V.P.?”
The truth lands between us like a blade.
Heat.Fear.Desire.
Indistinguishable.
My pulse spikes.And his eyes flick to my wrist, to the chain pulled tight from how close we now stand.If he takes one more step, our bodies will touch.
He doesn’t.
Not yet.
But his control stretches thin as paper.
I can feel it.
So can he.
Finally he shoves himself backward, away from me, away from the chain, away from the insane desire clawing at both of us, and storms out for the second time tonight.
But this time?
