Page 42 of Filthy Little Regrets
“I guess so.” Crue looks at Cassia again. Curiosity is not a good thing to see in his gaze, and right now, he may as well be a cat.
My eye twitches.
“Good night, beautiful.”
This son of a bitch.
She rolls her eyes. “That smile doesn’t work on me, Crue.”
“Give it time.” He winks. Again.
My fingers curl into fists. Crue is one of my best friends, but I don’t like him flirting with her. He’s a ladies’ man, and I’ve seen too many women fall under his spell.
He finishes his drink and stands, tipping his head toward the front door. “Walk me out.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Crue passes by me, and it takes all my willpower to wait to punch him. My gaze collides with Cassia’s. She watches me with narrow-eyed suspicion. I lift a shoulder and follow Crue, waiting until he’s halfway down the hall before I grab his shoulder and spin him around. He dodges the punch with his arm and slips away.
“You’ll have to do better than that, wolfy boy.”
With a growl, I lunge for him, landing a solid hit to his jaw. Crue grunts and staggers back. He dodges another fist and tosses a half-hearted one in my direction. I easily bat it away, backing him into the wall and using my forearm to pin him to it.
Crue’s wearing a demented smile. The shithead is enjoying seeing me lose control.
“Oh my god!” Cassia screeches when she appears in the hallway. “Let him go!”
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll let him go in a second.” I move my forearm, only to punch Crue in the ribs twice, hard enough to bowl him over, and while he’s out of breath, I kick the back of his leg, making his knee give out.
“Jesus, Mace,” he says with a laugh. “Why are you so mad?”
He knows why. Asshole.
“Don’tfuckingtouch my wife,” I say, giving him a solid shove that knocks him onto his back on the marble floor. Crouching next to his head, I watch as he struggles for air.
“Mace?” Cassia murmurs.
I look at her, and whatever she was going to say is lost in the face of my rage. She chews on her bottom lip, suddenly nervous. I’d never hurt her, but I think she knows that because, even with trepidation in her gaze, she stares me down.
I don’t regret making Crue aware of how serious I am about her. She’s off-limits, and if he thinks he can get away with flirting and touching her, he’s a dead man.
“It’s okay, Cassia,” Crue says, groaning as he sits up. “Mace had something important to tell me.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “That he’s irrationally jealous?”
Crue shakes his head and grins at me. “Nah, that he’s fucking whipped.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter, offering him a hand.
He eyes me and tentatively accepts. I fake a punch, and he flinches, cussing, and I laugh. I yank him to his feet and hold his stare for a few seconds.Don’t touch her. Don’t flirt with her. Don’t fucking wink at her.
“You understand?”
Crue nods. “I got you, bro.”
“Good, because I’d hate having to kill you.” But I would. That, in itself, might be a problem. I’ve wanted her for so long, now that I have her, I might do terrible things to keep her.
He claps me on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you.”
