“Unless you know something I don’t…” The edges of his lips whiten as he presses them together. He doesn’t just know something, he knows everything. Because my brother wouldn’t allow her around Casey otherwise. It seems whatever he knows isn’t bad enough to worry Graham, and whatever it is, he refuses to share. It’s okay. I don’t need his help. I’ll figure out everything I want to know without him. And if she’s in trouble, I’ll fucking handle that too.
My eyes narrow, head tilting as something occurs to me. My lashes lower as I chuckle. “This is about Casey, isn’t it?” There’s no point in waiting for an answer. I should’ve known as soon as he appeared in Dominic’s office.
It all makes sense now. I already knew he was invested because of Casey—because it’s what Graham pays him to do. It’s why he doesn’t want her at The 1st Circle. I was just too stupid to realize it would extend to me. “You told Graham I was asking about her, didn’t you?” Of course he did. It’s his job. Why else would he be so concerned? “Un-fucking-believable,” I mutter. “Tell my brother not to worry. I’ll make sure Casey won’t be affected by whatever it is. Then tell him to stay the fuck out of my shit.”
His shouts, calling for me to come back, get drowned out by the heavy metal door slamming shut.
The tension…Everything I worked out of my body in that room with Poppy returns. Muscles strain almost painfully, and a dull ache wraps around my skull. Temptation digs deep to drown it all out.
I hate the whiny, bitchy pity party going on in my mind. The voices that say what I want and need will always come second to everyone else. ThatIwill always come second. Because it doesn’t matter what everyone else wants or thinks of me. I know this.
Yet, the thoughts swirl, and the urge to turn around, go back inside, and drown myself in liquid and powder is fucking strong.
When my car comes into view, Poppy standing beside it makes my chest tighten. For a single nanosecond, I question myself. The consequences of pursuing anything with her, physical or otherwise, flash through my mind like lightning.
I’ve never pursued a woman. At least not since the one actual girlfriend I had for all of two weeks in high school before everything went to shit. What am I even doing when I know I don’t trust women? Casey could lose a friend she desperately needs. Poppy could get hurt. And I’ve already figured out that keeping this casual and emotionless won’t work for me.
I want her. All of her.
And that’s not only selfish, it’s dangerous.
But the moment of doubt disintegrates into nothing the second she’s close enough to touch. The second the cravings for substances vanish, replaced with a craving for her.
She gasps when I grab her, spin her, and pin her against my car. My mouth devours hers as I crush her against my car. Clarity consumes me as I thrust my tongue into her mouth. Epiphany? No. Revelation. Biblical.
She whimpers against my mouth as my fingers twist in her long, fiery hair. Desperate need and hungry desire roll through me like a hurricane. A heady, mind-numbing craving to dig my way beneath her skin as she’s done with mine possesses me.
It’s toxic and wrong.
I want her in the same way I want everything. For an escape.
But damn if she’s not the sweetest escape I’ve ever tasted.
I might be her demise, but maybe she can be my salvation.
And I’m selfish enough to take it.
Jagger
Poppy grips the door handle like she’s waiting for an escape, and hiding my grin isn’t easy. After everything in the club, the need to smile at all feels like a relief.
Buildings blur. Traffic surges. I press the pedal harder, weaving through Midtown. I’m only going sixty, tame really, but in bumper-to-bumper madness, I guess it’s enough to make a passenger sweat.
It’s a little under two miles from the club to my apartment by Central Park. The trip can take anywhere from five minutes to fifteen, depending on traffic. I’m pulling into the high-rise garage in two and a half minutes.
When I cut the engine, I cast a sidelong glance her way. “You can open your eyes now,” I tell her, unable to keep the humor from my tone.
“I’ll wait until we stop moving, thank you.”
I shake my head as I climb out of the car. Rounding the hood, I go to her door and open it. My shoulders shake as I reach in and grab her arm, tugging her out. “We have stopped.”
Long lashes stay glued to her cheeks as she tosses her head from side to side. “You might have, but I’m still very much moving.” As if to prove her point, she sways on her feet.
“We weren’t going that fast.”
Those lids pop open, and green and gold stare back at me in disbelief. “You just took a turn—a turn!—without slowing down. You didn’t even tap the brakes!”
“Come on,” I chuckle, taking her hand in mine. “Let’s get upstairs, and you’ll forget all about it.”
