Page 59 of Resist

I’m out of my seat and on the move without thought just as his laugh sounds off and their hands shake in greeting.

“Vaughn?”

Both of their heads startle my way at the sound of my voice. St. Germain’s expression is pissed while hers is smug. She just got exactly what she wanted, and I played perfectly into her hand.

“Yes?” she asks, voice innocent, body a temptation to sin.

“Leland, good to see you,” I say as he smiles and nods. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need my date for a second.”

Vaughn’s eyebrows spark up as her lips ghost a smile. “I’ll be there in a minute. I was just making the acquaintance of Mr. St. Germain here.”

St. Germain, not Leland. Mr. Lockhart, not Ryker. Her way of telling me she’s looking for clients.

Fuck that.

“This can’t wait,” I assert as I reach out and put my hand on the inside of her arm and all but pull her to go with me. “Leland,” I say with another nod and a dose of back-the-fuck-off in my glare.

“What—?”

“In a minute,” I say as I lead her by the arm out of the main room toward the front hallway.

People notice.

I’m sure tongues will be wagging. Gossip about how Ryker Lockhart went into a jealous rage when his date was cozying up to his rival and dragged her from The Club.

Something men in The Club don’t do publicly, but hell if I haven’t heard about their bullshit tendencies privately.

Gossip will fly about Ryker Lockhart, the ruthless shark in court and the stoic, untouchable man outside of it, who just flashed his temper.

Well, let them talk.

Let people outside The Club know.

I don’t fucking care.

“What the hell are you—”

My lips close over hers. Her back is against the wall just beyond the dining area, and my hands are twisting in her hair and fuck if I don’t take what I want. With lips and tongue and greed I’ve rarely felt before. She fights against me, hands pushing, head moving, and then it shifts to want, hands fisting, throat moaning—and every single exaggeration that will be thrown out into the gossip mill is worth it.

Fucking hell will it be worth it.

She tastes of wine and resistance. A resistance not to the kiss but to me, and fuck if it doesn’t turn me on more.

“Excuse me,” someone mutters behind me as they walk past us, and the voice shocks me to my senses. To what I’m doing. To how every part of me knows this is nowhere near enough of her.

I drag my lips from Vaughn’s. From the taste and the need and the darkness, and I know now more than ever that this woman is testing my sanity. I kissed her hoping it would sate that need burning inside me, but I realize instead it just threw gasoline on it. Her eyes are wide with an incompatible mixture of mistrust and desire.

“Let’s get out of here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Vaughn

I glance in Ryker’s direction. His expression relaxed but the tension set in him troubled. His tie is undone and draped around his neck, the collar of his shirt unbuttoned, and he’s holding my heels in one of his hands at his side.

Central Park is gorgeous at night.

As a woman, I’ve never really thought of it as a place to frequent after dark. I’m typically alone, and trouble isn’t something I invite. But walking through it right now, with the soft lights casting a glow, the skyline as a backdrop, and a more-than-handsome man beside me, dare I say it feels somewhat romantic? Dare I say I want to close my eyes and memorize the grass beneath my feet, the sound of the laughter floating across the open space, the slight scent of Ryker’s cologne?