“No clue what you’re talking about.”
My lips lift in a snarl, but I force them into a line because I refuse to allow him to get the better of me like every other time.
He curls his index finger in my sweater, his eyes darkening. “What are youwearing?”
I frown, looking down at my green-and-blue striped sweater. “Clothes.”
“With your money, one would think you’d be able to affordfinishedclothes.” He reaches up and slides his hand along my exposed collarbone through the wide collar.
My skin prickles again, his touch igniting those familiar feelings of lust and abandon. The furious sensation spreads across my spine and shoots straight to my throbbing balls.
Flashbacks of slapping and jerking and thrusting pour into my head like lava, incinerating me from the inside out. I want…no, Ineedthat again.
“It’s called oversized,” I grumble, trying to sound annoyed and not at all embarrassingly turned on.
“It’s called too much visible skin.”
“My collarbone isn’t fucking cleavage.”
“It’s much worse.” The rough timbre of his voice, coupled with his seemingly explorative but firm touch, thickens my cock. “You don’t seem to have any fucking clue how effortlessly erotic you look right now.”
His thumb presses on the line of my throat where it meets my collarbone, and I swallow against it, my ears ringing.
A flash of something intimate and ancient and prickling darkens his eyes as he stares down at me, his voice lowering to a raw range. “I don’t like it when others look at what’s mine, Preston. What belongs to me is for my eyes only, do you understand?”
“You’re acting as if I’m walking around naked,” I whisper. “It’s just a fucking collarbone.”
He shakes his head once. “It’sallof you.”
That stupid, inexplicable thing happens again in my chest—a sort of nonsensical movement that makes it hard to breathe.
“Heey!” Miley skates to our side. “What’s taking you so long?”
All the noise of our environment slides back in, harsh and jarring. The sound of skates on ice, the laughter and endless chatter.
Itotallyforgot about all the people surrounding us as this asshole dragged me into his web of madness.
I push him away and his hand drops from my throat, leaving a flush of heat in its wake. “I told you we’re strangers in public. Go away.”
His eyes narrow slightly, but then he smiles at Miley, who stops next to us, then glances at me. “Who says I’m here for you?”
“Come on, let me teach you.” My sister whirls with an attitude bigger than her tiny body. “I don’t have all day.”
Marcus, the asshole, casts a fleeting glance at me, then takes her outstretched hand. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, princess. Lead the way.”
She grins and drags him to the middle, her wings flying behind her.
Is this piece of shit really going to ignore me and pretend he’s here for Miley? He obviously stalkedme.
I stand in place, my arms crossed, and yup, he’s totally into whatever gibberish she’s telling him—mirroring her movements and everything.
Since when does he even have the patience for kids? Listen, I love Miley, but she’s my sister, so that’s a given. Other kids, however, should stay the hell away from me.
She’s not Marcus’s sister, though, and he has zero need to indulge her. He’s obviously low on the empathy radar, and he has no patience whatsoever sometimes. He certainly seems to be ticked off by everything I do or say lately.
And yet he’s currently tolerating Miley’s constant yapping, as if she’s competing for how many words she can say in one breath.
I frown when he smiles at her, his expression soft, and that chronic pain in my chest sinks in deeper.What the fuck?
