He steps up extremely close, then leans down and gets in my face. “No, you aren’t. You’ve been following me for way too long, Miss Knight.”
“So, you’ve done your research,” I say sarcastically, resisting the urge to rest my hand on my hip, while trying to swallow down nerves that are bubbling up with his closeness.
“Oh, have I ever.” Soren dips his head even closer, his nose skimming past my cheek, his mouth gazing far too close to my ear. “Tell me, who is with your son right now?”
I gasp, my stomach pitching, but it’s fury at his question and the veiled threat behind it that tightens my fists at my sides. In that moment, the people around us fade into nothing, the noise dulling until it’s just him and me. This man has done his digging, and he’s done it well.
I don’t post my son on social media at all because I try to keep him out of the public eye as much as possible. Not just because I investigate some weird things in my job, but also because his father has requested it. I’m on good terms with Oliver’s father, and I want to keep it that way. Even though our relationship didn’t work out, he is a good father.
“How dare you?” I seethe, stepping closer, until I can smell the sweat covering his body.
“Me? How dareI?” He laughs, slowly and mean, as if he already knows how this ends. “Have you forgotten you take every opportunity to follow me and dig intomybusiness?” he reminds me.
“It’s my job. I go where the story is. Andyouhave a story, Soren.”
Someone bumps me from behind, and it pushes me straight into his arms. He grabs me, one hand on my arm, the other settling on my waist, warm and…possessive? He doesn’t push me away. He holds me there, like he’s deciding what to do next.
“And it’s my job to make sure I’m not being stalked by crazy women who want what I have.” I’m acutely aware of his touch right now.
“Believe me, you have nothingIwant.”
“Oh, really?” He bends down, and his face is so close to mine that for a moment I think he’ll kiss me. Instead, he shakes his head, huffing out a breath. “So, why do you keep stalking me?”
“Stalk? That’s a word you clearly don’t know the true definition. I attend places where you happen to be, for work,” I explain.
I’m jostled again as the crowd starts to move, and my hands fall to his hard chest. Glancing down at the spot where my skin touches his, I quickly pull them away because his chest is hot to touch. As I do, he releases me, and I turn away to leave, but his hand shoots out and grips my wrist, his fingers wrapped tightly.
“This is not the end of this discussion.” He tries to say more, but we’re shoved again. With an exasperated huff, he grabs hold of me, lifts me like I weigh nothing, and tosses me over his shoulder. I let out a startled cry as the room spins, his shoulder digging into my stomach. Then he strides straight through the crowd, carrying me like I’m his to take, like possession is the language he speaks fluently, and I’m struggling to translate it.
“Put. Me. Down! What thehellare you even doing?” I scream.
He bounces me—yes, bounces me—on his shoulder, pressing further into my stomach as he strides to an exit that I’m guessing leads to the changing room. Once the door shuts behind us, he sets me down on my feet, then turns to open a locker and pulls out his belongings.
There’s a shower to his right, and without a second thought, he removes his shorts and then walks over and turns it on. All I can do is stare at his rock-hard ass. I’m completely confused as to what is going on and why he dragged me back here.Who gavehim the right to put his hands on me like that?I go to speak, but my words are completely cut off when he turns around with absolutely no shame whatsoever and starts washing his body.
“So, you do know how to shut up,” he says, then proceeds to wash his cock right there in front of me. “Risky for you to come in here dressed like that. You do know this place is full of criminals.” His gaze rakes over me while he finishes cleaning his cock. He tilts his head back, and the water streams over his skin, removing all the soap. I watch in complete fascination as the suds slip all the way down, past his cock to his feet, and then scuttle down the drain.
He has the nicest body I’ve ever seen, all raw strength and sculpted muscle. Every ridge and line looks carved with precision, his abs taut, his chest broad, his arms thick with the kind of power that only comes from years of discipline, not vanity. My ex-husband, Noah, was fit—gym-fit, predictable-fit, the kind that came from routine and protein shakes. But he wasn’t this type of fit. Soren is built for endurance, for impact. Every inch of him radiates controlled aggression and effortless dominance. He’s a walking embodiment of danger wrapped in temptation with a pretty little bow on top.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask, even though I know perfectly well now that it’s the wrong choice for a place like this.
“Nothing, if you’re in a damn office.” He turns off the water, then walks straight up to me.
“Your cock is pointing in my direction,” I say, and he smirks.
“You’re inmy domain, Miss Knight. If at any time my cock offends you, you could leave instead of just standing there, staring at it.”
He does have a mighty fine cock—thick, impressive, and easily the largest I have ever seen.
“You manhandled me,” I growl, heat rising in my voice.
“I saved you from getting trampled by the crowd. A thank you will suffice.”
He hasn’t made any move to get dressed, standing there completely unfazed and confident in his own skin, as if the very idea of modesty does not apply to him.
“No, I don’t think so.”
He nods, as if he were expecting that answer. He gets closer, and I brace myself, for him. But he simply leans around me, his body pressing slightly against mine as he opens what I assume is his locker, and produces a towel. He says nothing, and neither do I as I turn away from him and he slides on his pants.
