I fail.
“What do you want?” I grind out.
He doesn’t say anything right away, he stays behind me, breathing on me, being sexy and I hate it and love it all at the same time. I can’t open my eyes, if I do, I’ll probably turn around and kiss him, I’ll make a move and get rejected yet again. I can’t do that, I can’t take it again.
“You,” he rasps. “I shouldn’t.”
I hum, not wanting to actually speak. I want to tell him that he should and to take me right here and right now. Then in the same breath I want to tell him that it’s too late, that I’m over him and to fuck off. I want to pull him close while pushing him away.
“You’re right. You shouldn’t, turn away and run now.” He growls, but doesn’t move and doesn’t speak right away. “Go,” I grind out. “Just go.”
Then, before I realize what’s happening, he has me turned around, the towel is snatched away from me and thrown across the room. He wraps his hand around my waist and picks me up, slamming my ass against the edge of the counter to sit.
Eye to eye, I can see the danger simmering just below the surface. He’s angry, he’s frustrated—he’s sexier than I’ve ever seen him. He’s about to explode, he’s about to lose control and I want it all.
I’ve never been one to crave danger, to want a man to lose control. Except with Dylan, in this place, I feel safe. He isn’t going to hurt me, the other men wouldn’t let him even if he tried. But he wouldn’t, not Dylan, not the man who saved me from a life of pure hell.
JAGUAR
Lifting one of my hands from her waist, I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck. Watching Mamba walk out of the kitchen, a cocky smirk playing on his lips and a chin jerk toward me, I had to see what he was so fucking proud of himself about.
I thought maybe Pinkie was back in business, maybe he’d gotten Maria to come back, or maybe it was Gator. Fuck if I knew with him. When I walked into the kitchen and saw her, a sensation of rage filled my entire body.
Tangling my fingers in her hair, I tug her head back, forcing her neck to arch beautifully. Fuck me, I could devour her, all of her. I could ruin her without a second thought—happily.
“You could really fuck with a man,” I rasp.
She whimpers, wrapping her fingers around my biceps, her nails digging into me from above my T-shirt sleeves. Leaning forward, I lick the entire column of her throat, tasting her on the way up to her earlobe. Nipping her there, I rest my lips at the shell of her ear.
“You fuck with me,” I admit.
“You fuck with me, too, Dylan,” she exhales.
I hum, kissing down her throat and stopping at the hollow, sucking there and enjoying the way her breathing changes. I shouldn’t be here, I should turn around and walk away. I can’t. Seeing Mamba walk out of this room after being alone with her, I’m not sure I could ever see another man claim her.
Mamba and Pinkie are fucking right. She’s mine. Meant for me, even if she’s too fucking good for me. I will go crazy if I don’t keep her for myself. The only saving grace is that I don’t feel manic when it comes to Pamela. I feel the exact opposite, I feel calm when I’m near her.
“Please,” she whispers.
Lifting my head, I tip my chin down and look into her eyes. “Please, what?”
She doesn’t say anything right away, her eyes search mine and there’s something wrong, something different in the way she looks at me. I wonder if she’s done, if she’s over me already. I know she’s young and sometimes the young girls that come in and out of here can be fickle, but I didn’t think she could be.
I thought she was different. I thought she would attach herself to me and hold on tightly. Stupidly, I thought that she would never think twice, that she would stay beside me without a second thought, grateful for the chance to be an Old Lady someday.
Gripping her hair tighter in my fist, a different kind of anger fills me. She whimpers at the way I pull at her scalp, but I can’t help myself. I can’t stop myself. I can’t go through a Della situation again, I can’t let myself go there.
“Please don’t hurt me, Dylan.”
My entire body jerks. I release her immediately and I see the moment that she thinks I’m going to walk away. Her face crumples right before my eyes. Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through my hair.
Looking at her, I wonder what she’s thinking. I wish that I could tell her that hurting her is the last thing I ever want to do, but it’ll probably be all that I’ll ever do. Shaking my head, I try to shake the doubt out, but it doesn’t work.
“Don’t know any other way, Sunny.”
“What?” she asks.
She’s confused and I don’t blame her. Clearing my throat, I let my hands drop to my sides, I ball them into fists and watch her. I want to tell her everything, but I won’t. She can’t know it all, if she does, she won’t look at me the way she is looking at me right now.
“Hurt. I only know how to hurt. Never done anything different.”
She presses her lips together and shifts her eyes to the side before she brings them back to meet my own. “You know plenty about not hurting people, Dylan. You haven’t hurt Pinkie. She loves you and you love her.”
My shoulder jerks as an automatic reaction to her words. I’m confused by them. Completely and totally confused. Thankfully,
