“She didn’t stop me,” he murmurs, almost like a secret. “Nah, she fucking wanted it. She couldn’t wait to open up for me. Tight little cunt clenched down like she couldn’t fucking get enough.”
That’s it.
I slam him into the wall before the last word’s out of his mouth, my forearm crushing into his throat, hard enough to crack drywall behind his skull. His head hits with a thud, but the bastard’s still grinning like hewantsthis.
“You wanna say that again?” I snarl, eyes locked on his, every muscle in my body screaming for blood. “Go ahead. Open your fucking mouth. Ifucking dareyou.”
The cigarette falls from his lips, drops between us like a lit fuse. Ash smears across his chest, but he doesn’t flinch. Just stares back with that dead-eyed amusement, like nothing I do can touch him.
“Touched a nerve, did I?” he rasps, breath choked against my arm. “What, because you want her just as bad as I do? That’s the real bitch of it, isn’t it? You’re not pissed I touched her. You’re pissed Ibeatyou to it.”
This isn’t just about fucking.
It’s abouther.
And he thinks she’s something he can use to win.
My vision’s gone red. All I can see is her—Blair—wrecked, glowing and messy, just like he said. I can smell her on him. Like he marked her. Like he thinks she’s his.
“You fucked her,” I bite out, venom thick in my throat. “In this fucking shithole of a place and then you just left her? Walked away like she meantnothing? Like she was trash?”
My voice drops, but the rage doesn’t. It just sharpens. Cuts deeper.
“None of it mattered to you, did it? Not her. Not how she felt. All that fucking mattered was getting to her beforeme.That’s what this was.”
I press harder, just to hear him gasp.
“This was never about Blair to you. This was abouther.”
There it is. The truth between us. Bleeding. Rotting.
He touched her because he wanted to win. Not because hefeltanything, and I can’t fucking stand it.
I swing.
Hard.
And just like that, it’s on.
I pull him back and slam him into the wall again, so hard the drywall buckles. His head jerks back, but he’s already moving, throwing an elbow toward my ribs. I duck, swing low, and we hit the ground hard. We’re rolling. Trading punches. No technique, just rage. Just fucking blood. My knuckles split on his cheekbone and he grunts, shoving me off with a knee to the side. I come back swinging. He catches my jaw. The thud of bone on bone echoes in the narrow hall.
“I told you not to fucking touch her,” I growl, kneeing him into the concrete. “Told you to stay the fuck away from her. Didn’t you learn the first time?”
“Oh, fuck off,” he spits, blood trailing down his lip, but that smug glint in his eyes doesn’t fade for a second. “Yeah, she kissed you. Real sweet. But then what? She walked off.”
He laughs—low, bitter, victorious.
“And not ten minutes later? She letmefuck her. Up against a door, moaning my name like it was the only thing she remembered. So don’t act surprised, man. You got the warm-up.Igot the finish.”
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then grins through the blood. That sharp, crooked grin he knows I hate.
“Guess she figured out who really knows how tohandleher.”
That’s when I lose it.
I lunge, get on top of him, fists flying, until?—
“DAGGER!”
