I look at the scar near his ear. I look at the ruthless line of his jaw. I think about Ryder laughing at me in my kitchen.
“I’m not playing,” I say.
Gabriel’s hand slides from my wrist up to my elbow, then higher, his fingers digging into the bare skin of my arm.
“Good,” he says. “Because neither am I.”
She thinksshe’s playing a game.
She thinks she’s the one moving the pieces on the board, using me as a pawn to hurt my son.
It’s adorable, really.
If I weren’t so consumed by the need to tear that dress off her body and sink myself inside her until I touch her soul, I might actually laugh.
Blair Ashby has no idea she just walked into a trap I set three years ago.
Her weight settles on my lap, and every muscle in my body locks up.
Fuck.
The sensation of her thighs bracketing my hips is a level of torture I haven’t prepared for. I’ve imagined this. I’ve spent nights staring at the ceiling, my hand working overtime, picturing exactly this—Blair, desperate and furious, climbing me like I’m the only solid thing left in her world.
But the reality?
The reality is violent.
It hits me in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. She smells like the same expensive perfume Ryder buys all his littletoys and I grit my teeth with the effort to hold back the urge to cover her in the scent of me instead. To wipe away every single trace of the disappointment that is my son from her skin.
Her hands running up my chest and around my neck bring me back to the here and now.
Blair feels soft where I’m hard, small where I’m big.
And she’s mine.
Finally.
I look past her shoulder. The room is empty at the moment outside of the two of us and the bouncer.
Good.
Because if anyone else looks at her right now, with her skirt hiked up and her head thrown back, I’ll kill them.
I won’t just hurt them. I’ll end them.
I’ll gouge their eyes out and feed them to the strays in the alley out back.
Possessiveness surges through my veins, black and toxic. It’s the feeling of a man who has starved for a lifetime suddenly sitting at a banquet.
I clench her waist, my fingers digging into her flesh through the silk of her dress.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” I growl, my voice unrecognizable. It’s a rough scrape of sound, barely human.
She grinds down.
A curse rips from my throat.
She’s sitting right on my cock. Through the wool of my trousers, I can feel the heat of her. She’s not wearing much underneath that dress.
