An hour ago, he kissed my neck like a man possessed. Now he’s letting some lingerie model rub herself all over him like I don’t even exist?
Nope.
Absolutely not.
I feel it then.
The burn.
It starts in my chest and scorches downward. Hot. Fast. Furious.
The woman is talking to him again, practically purring. She tilts her head and smiles, eyes sparkling with flirtation. My mouth drops open as she starts toying with the buttons of his shirt, slow, teasing. Like she’s about to undo them. Like she’s entitled toundresshim.
Even worse, he turns and smiles at her.
Mysmile.
That know-it-all smirk he likes to give me because he knows how much it provokes me, how it gets under my skin.
Something in mesnaps. It’s white-hot and primal. Possession, jealousy, fury, it’s all tangled up in a feeling so raw it overwhelms me.
I don’t think.
I don’t plan.
I act.
“Hold this.” I shove my cup into Samantha’s hand and start marching, the crowd parting around me like it senses something dangerous coming. Maybe they do. My feet stomp with purpose. My fists are clenched. My blood sings with rage and something darkerbeneath it.
Carrson turns his head as I approach. He sees me. His smirk flickers.
Good.
Let him see what he started.
I step between him and the blonde, planting myself squarely in front of him.
“Who the hell are you?” the woman demands, her voice sharp with irritation.
I don’t even look at her.
I wrap my fingers around the collar of Carrson’s bloodstained shirt.
“I’m his Bonded.”
Then I pull.
Hard.
And kiss him.
Chapter twenty-four
Carrson
For half a second, I don’t move.
I’m frozen. My brain short-circuits, unable to comprehend what’s happening.
