Page 60 of Precious Legacy
I rock back to look at him, a smirk coming to my lips. “Tell you what. If you tell me the names of the other two fuckers who were with you that night, I’ll consider letting you go.”
He swallows thickly, nodding as fat tears roll down his cheeks. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you.”
Violence simmers in my veins as I wait for him to continue.
“Scott Bryon,” he says on a ragged exhale.
The name doesn’t ring any bells.
“And the other?” I ask, arching a brow.
Greedy shakes his head. “I don’t know his name. We just met him that night. Said he was a cop.”
I nod curtly and step around him, bringing my blade back to his face.
“Wait!” he shrieks, panicking. “You said?—”
“I said I’d consider letting you go,” I reply coldly. “I’ve considered, and the only way you’re leaving here is in pieces, shithead. Nobody touches what’s mine.”
I get to work on his ear, sawing the rusted knife back and forth until it drops to the ground, swimming in his blood. His pained cries grow louder, but I’m nowhere near finished withhim. I’m going to draw out every last second until he’s nothing but flesh and bone. I want to create a massacre, a creation of my own violence, because that is what Alanis does to me.
Thatis what she’s worth.
TWENTY-THREE
Things between Roman and I have been different, but it’s a good kind of different. He’s been there for me in ways I didn’t expect him to be capable of, including cooking me dinner. Last night, he came over unexpectedly, holding two carrier bags of groceries. I took one look at him and folded over laughing, unconvinced that the guy could actually cook. To my surprise, he’s a pretty good chef. It helps that he also looks pretty fucking sexy in just boxers and an apron. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as he stirred a pot on the stove, his muscles rippling across his back. I had to clench my thighs together as I sat on a stool at the kitchen island, hypnotized by the guy who’d just given me three orgasms in record time.
The connection we had when we were younger feels ten times stronger now. The attraction is palpable, the intensity of our feelings simmering under my skin like flames licking my veins. Even though I was in just a baggy t-shirt, I could feel the heat crawling up my spine and I had to force myself to get a handle on my urges before I distracted Roman and ruined dinner for both of us.
I should’ve known there would be an ulterior motive, though. Roman doesn’t do anything without there being a reason for his actions. So, when he asked if I’d return back to fight night, I had to take a long moment to consider my answer.
Somehow, between the fifth and sixth orgasm he gave me after dinner, I conceded. So here I am, stepping through the doorway to the abandoned warehouse once more, my heart hammering in my chest.
We’re like magnets—polar opposites tethered by something out of our control. I find his eyes watching my every move as I slip through the hordes of rowdy bodies.
I try to ignore the pounding of my pulse, swallowing thickly as I steady my breaths. Roman assured me Ashton wouldn’t be here tonight. I don’t know how he knows that for sure, but I put my trust in him, knowing that after the way he saw me last week, he won’t put me in the same position again.
The crash of music thunders around me. ‘Shatter’ by Bullet for my Valentine plays so loud I swear the speakers might explode. By the time I’ve made it up the stairs and into Roman’s arms, my ears feel like they’re bleeding.
I’m not averse to this type of music. It’s a kind of beat that speaks to my soul and gets my blood pumping, so I can see why Roman chose the genre.
He greets me with a soft kiss on the lips, twining our hands together before guiding me to the couches in the VIP area. He pulls me into his lap sideways, hands protectively wrapping around me. I’ve never been fond of the caveman routine, but Roman makes it so damn hard to push away from him. Being in his arms makes me feel safe, a different kind of security I didn’t know I needed.
The music below pumps away loudly. It’s just Roman and I up here, and I kinda like it. I know Haldon will be arriving at some point because he wouldn’t miss this kind of event. Havensaid she’s got studying to do, but might make it later. And my brother, well… I’d like to think he isn’t still avoiding me, but he’s yet to respond to any of my messages.
“You’re killing me, Presh,” Roman rasps in my ear, fingers tracing patterns over my knee.
The dress I’ve opted for is red, blood red. It dips down to my navel, the hem landing mid-thigh. The material hugs my body like a second skin, with spaghetti straps that wrap around my shoulders and zigzag down my back. It was one hell of an effort to get it on, but seeing the hungry look in Roman’s eyes makes it totally worth it.
“Don’t die on me yet, Genovese,” I tease, wiggling my ass over his thickening cock. “I have plans after this.”
He quirks a brow, nuzzling into the slope of my neck. “And what would those plans involve?” His tone is husky and strained, like it’s taking everything in him not to bend me over the leather couch and plow into me right now. I wouldn’t say no, either… just maybe when there isn’t a crowd below us.
I lean into his chest, tilting my head back so I can look into his lust-filled eyes. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Nipping my earlobe playfully, he elicits an embarrassing giggle that sends heat to my cheeks and pussy at the same time. It doesn’t help that Roman’s hand has now traveled between my thighs, tracing the raised skin where he carved the letter R and eliciting a choked moan from my throat.
“Argh…” a voice grumbles before the couch bounces under the weight of my brother. “Get a fucking room.”
