Page 28 of Worth Risking It

The door swung open so hard, it hit the wall, bounced off, and slammed closed as Wyatt charged toward me with a countenance of sheer wrath.

My heart sank, my hand stilling, the ball bouncing away. In four, wide strides, he was on me, his hand around my throat, shoving me against the wall.

“Are you fucking crazy?” he boomed, his voice echoing off the bricks.

Shuddering, my breath was stolen, but I knew where this anger was coming from. “I…I-I didn’t t-think—”

“You didn’t think?” he blasted, leaning closer, his heat making me sweat. “You almost got killed tonight, Chazzy! Do you understand that? Dead. A bullet in your fucking brain.” Just for emphasis, he lifted a fist, the middle finger sticking out to jab me in the forehead with each of his last words.

The tears burst forward, and I sobbed hysterically. Covering my eyes, I trembled violently, the bile curdling in my stomach.

He cupped both cheeks, softening his voice. “I would have lost my fucking mind had anything happened to you tonight. You can’t be that foolish, kitten. You can’t! I can’t lose you!”

I fell into his arms, my face in his chest. Balling my hands into fists at his back over his waist, I wailed, my knees weakening.

He embraced me, supporting my weight, his lips buried in my hair. “You have to be careful, Chazzy. This isn’t the world you’re used to where you can smart off to people. You’re feisty, and that’s awesome, but you have to be careful. Morozov thinks women should be seen, not heard. He was the last person you should have spoken out to.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He leaned back, wiping my cheeks dry, searching my eyes. “From now on, be careful, okay? Watch what you say. Learn who Milo is dealing with before you speak. Like Morozov, no, never again. You have to learn people, Chazzy. You can’t just go into a conversation blind, now that you can understand what’s being said.”

He made that last statement with a snarky smirk, shaking his head. Releasing me, he crossed his arms and leaned to one leg, jutting his chin. “When did you start learning Italian?”

Composing myself and anxiously toying with my engagement ring, I curled a shoulder to my ear. “A couple months. I didn’t like always sitting there, looking dumb, not knowing what was going on.”

“And now that you know, are you happy? How did that turn out for you tonight?”

Heaving a sigh, I let my muscles relax and went to retrieve the basketball. “Not too well.”

I bounced the ball back to the center of the room, gazed at the hoop, and hopped, making the basket, stepping forward to reclaim it.

“You play basketball?”

Immediately slipping into defensive mode, I cut my lids and sneered, “Because I’m fat, I can’t be athletic?”

He shrugged, averting his gaze. “I dunno, I mean…”

Stunned, I propped the ball on my hip with my forearm, my hand dangling at my side. “Excuse me? Did I, or did I not squat over you and ride your dick for forty-five minutes once? And the other day, weren’t you the one who got too tired and asked for a break?”

The more his brows lowered, the wider his mischief grin curled. “There you go again, kitten, speaking out loud things that are dangerous.”

Prancing toward him, feeding off his energy as his sight raked over me hungrily, I purred, “You’re sleeping with a fat girl, Wyatt. A fat girl with rolls and stretchmarks and thighs that touch.”

“Mm, them thighs,” he groaned, focusing on them whenever my robe would part with my steps to give a teasing glimpse.

“And you still want to have stereotypes? You hated me in the beginning because of my weight, and now you touch every pound with your tongue at times. How do you feel about that?”

His eyes smoldering, his nostrils flaring, his voice was gravelly when he answered. “Best fucking decision of my life. Never been so goddamn happy to be wrong.”

“Then how can you stand here and judge me based on something I’ve proven does not slow me down?”

“Doesn’t slow you down, huh?” he muttered, strutting closer. “You think you’re an athlete now, huh?”

Arching a brow, I flashed a provocative smile. “I’m your kitten, right? Sex with you is very athletic.”

He growled, his grin arrogant. “Yes, you are my kitten,” he whispered, tucking a finger under my chin. His other hand slapped the ball from under my arm. It bounced off the floor and he grabbed it, dribbling and backing away. “Not very alert, huh, kitten?”

“You distracted me.”