“Do we get to go on your bike again?” Her face lights up with genuine excitement, and she actually bounces a little on the balls of her feet, her hands clasped in front of her like a kid on Christmas morning.
Lianna’s eyebrows shoot up. “You have a bike?”
“He does, and it’s hot.”
“Yeah, I got that from the dumbass grin on your face,” she says, pointing at Shannen. “Plus, I’ve been there—those vibrations hitting you just right while being wrapped around an attractive guy…”
“You ever heard of a filter?” I ask, cocking a brow.
“Please… coming from the walking red flag with a body count? I’ll take my lack of filter over your lack of impulse control any day.”
Shannen cuts in before I can respond. “Okay. You”—she points at me—“back in the bedroom.” Then to Lianna, “And you, go upstairs and let yourself in. I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
“I’m taking this,” Lianna announces, lifting my coffee mug like it’s hers now and heading for the door, waving at both of us over her shoulder. “Oh, and give Phoenix my number. I need a favor.”
Chapter 18
Shannen
DidI choose this dress with Phoenix in mind? Yes.
Did I know it would screw with him the second he saw it? No, not like this—not with that look on his face that says he’s felt this exact possessive rage before
“You do realize I’ve been wearing whatever the hell I want for years, and that’s not about to change just because you’ve decided to start voicing your disapproval.”
“Shannen—”
“Phoenix.”
“It’s different now.” His eyes are glued to where the fabric skims the tops of my thighs. “You think this is about the dress, but it’s not. It’s about what it does to me. What it does tothem.”
He draws in a breath, then his lips touch my shoulder, lingering there before he slowly drops to his knees in front of me.
Pride isn’t even part of his world anymore, only ownership.
“I don’t think about you with anyone else. That’s not where myhead goes because, fuck me, my first thought when I see you is always how beautiful you are.”
He drags his face along the silver material, as if he’s trying to replace every thread with the scent of him.
“But I hate the thought of anyone else looking at you and seeing something they think they can have. Something they think they can touch.”
His hands slide up my calves, slowly gliding up the backs of my thighs, fingers spread wide, covering as much of my skin as possible.
“Thinking they can kiss you.” His mouth climbs higher, lips brushing the hem of my dress. “Thinking they can touch you the way I touch you. Want you the way I want you.” His thumbs press into the crease where my thighs meet my hips, and the shiver that runs through me is immediate—something my body can’t hide from him.
I look down at the man on his knees before me.
He’s hunger on a leash.
Obsession with a pulse.
“Thinking they can take you from me.”
“I’m yours, Phoenix.”
“Say it again,” he whispers.
I take his chin between my thumb and finger, forcing his gaze to stay on mine. “Yours.”
