She already has too much control over you. You shouldn’t give her any more.
It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself otherwise, I already know what I’m willing to dofor her.
London has no idea just how far gone I am, and I wonder if that’s for the best.
Figure out a way to get yourself under control before it goes badly for both of you. London walked away from Noah. She needs you to do what needs to be done to keep you both safe.
I dig my nails into her shoulders and yank her toward me.
A gasp falls from her lips seconds before my mouth descends on hers, hot and unyielding.
Desire floods every part of me, prompting me to pull her closer.
She drapes herself over me, and groan as one finger stays in my hair, and the other traces a path down my chest. London fumbles with my belt until I hold both her hands tightly. Her back hits the desk, and I pause to hoist her up before settling between her legs.
I can already smell how much she wants me.
Fuck.
I want to lose myself in her for days on end.
London whimpers as I tug on her lower lip, and then plunge my tongue into her mouth. Suddenly, her fingers are grasping at my clothes and trying to tug them off. I grunt as she whips my belt off, and splays her fingers over my stomach. I wrench my lips away and pepper her neck with kisses, nearly losing control when she begins to rub herself against me.
Jesus fucking Christ.
She has no idea what she does to me, or how dangerous it makes her.
It’s why they took her. They know she is the key to your undoing.
London pries my shirt free. Her eyes are half-closed, and there’s a hint of color on her cheeks. A few wisps of hair are matted to her forehead, and her chest is rising and falling unevenly. Her eyes fly open the rest of the way when I step out of her embrace and leave a wide berth between us.
“Get dressed.”
London blinks, myriad emotions dancing across her face. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” I tell her. “Katia will escort you back to the house.”
London’s back is ramrod stiff as she pulls on her clothes. Then, she pulls her hair into a ponytail and shoots me a wounded look. I resist the urge to meet her eyes and instead turn to the fire and study the flames.
A few moments later, she brushes past me, and I ignore the need to reach for her.
To pull her against me and take her against every surface of this room, loud enough for the entire club to hear.
It’s what we both need, but I won’t allow myself that release.
I hate the look in her eyes, almost as much as the little show I made her put on, but I know it’s necessary.
For both of us.
I can’t let her have complete control over me, not now, not ever.
Carlisle appears in the doorway moments after London leaves. I step behind the desk and motion to him. He pauses to shut the door and crosses over to me. Then, he reaches into his jacket and places an envelope on my desk. I glance between the envelope and his face before I sit down and reach for my drink.
“Speak.”
“Michael Everett and Lance Fitzpatrick have been sent out of the country,” he begins. “Something about business overseas that needs tending to.”
Shit.
