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This was about payback? “For what? Wait, don’t tell me—he stole one of your women.”
“Oh, my god, he did.”
You made your interest clear a long time ago, Allister. I’ll never answer to you—get used to it already.”
“What part of ‘call me if you need anything’ did you not fucking understand?”
“Please. When a woman doesn’t hear from a man in two weeks, she gets the picture crystal clear.”
The air escaped me in a rush as he grabbed me by the throat and pressed my back against the wall.
The bastard was Russian.
I could change everything so fast. Make her a single woman. Make her want me. Make her mine.
“Iowa, huh?”
I would have killed anyone else who’d provoked me like she had. But somehow, the idea of her lifeless body made my stomach tighten in denial.
“Fortunately for Russia, their women seem to have a little more self-respect than to drop their clothes for a man they hate. Guess I needed a change of scenery.”
She’d thrown her goddamn shoe at me.
But I knew that was just an excuse for the real reason: he’d fucked her. If I couldn’t fuck her, nobody could fuck her. It was that simple. The idea of anyone touching her was a nauseating pill I refused to swallow.
“And if she is getting serious with him?”
I’ll kill him.
“You won’t fucking touch her.” The threat escaped me, so calm and deadly it stilled the air.
I wondered what love felt like.
I wondered if it even existed.
“Who was it?”
“He had a badge on him, made me feel like a criminal just for liking you, if I’m being honest.”
“Did you say he had a badge?”
“Yeah, FBI, if you can believe it or not.”
“Well, I am. Move.”
“Some of you also drop to your knees for a twenty-dollar bill,”
His eyes were on me, simmering with an anger that told me I was in deep shit if he caught me alone after this.
Christian’s fury cooled and burned my skin as his gaze skimmed down my body.
And then I remembered my dress. My very white, very wet dress.
Without a look in the Abelli’s direction, Allister pulled a pistol from his jacket. Pop.
A chill passed through me as Christian put the pistol away without a flicker of emotion.
The fed’s response was as dry as his eyes were cold. “He was annoying me.”
“There isn’t a man on this earth I would ever marry again.”
“I’ll run before I’m ever forced to marry again.”
“I’m done playing games with you.”
“Is that what you think we do? Play games?”
“I don’t care what you call it. I’m done! With this.” I gestured between us. “With you.”
Like the set of the sun, his eyes filled ...
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“You’ll never be done with me.”
He was rough yet meticulous in his movements, as if he was infatuated with every curve and dip but hated himself for it.
“If you ran, Gianna
“I would find you.”
“I thought you were done with me, Gianna.”
His voice was dark. “No more Vincent Monroe, Gianna.”
He ran a thumb down my landing strip, voice hoarse. “I’ve wondered if this was still here.”
“You’ve been thinking about me, huh?”
“Only when I need to come.”
“It’s staying on,” he said harshly against my lips.
“And you’re a selfish bastard who takes and doesn’t give anything in return,”
His jaw ticked. And then he pulled his dress shirt from his pants, grabbed my hand, and slid it over his stomach and up his chest. He was compromising with me, allowing me to touch him without taking off his shirt.
With a rough sound, he nipped at it like he was angry, like he was trying to imprint himself on my skin forever.
He hissed against my throat, and before I could even get a good look at him, he gripped my hips and pushed me down until I’d sunk halfway onto his length.
