you’re fucking spying on me.’
‘I’m not spying. I’m—’
‘Do you trust me?’ I ask calmly, though on the inside I’m raging. After everything he’s put me through?
‘I trust you. It’s everyone else I don’t trust.’ He shoves his glass away. ‘I haven’t got time for this.’ Taking the fresh glass being handed to him by the barman, he knocks back another Haig and slams his empty down.
‘You haven’t got time for this? You mean us?’ I ask, prickling with irritation. ‘Nice to know you’re invested. Maybe I haven’t got time to wrap my head around the shit you keep landing on me,’ I seethe. ‘I’m not hanging around to be accused of whatever your paranoid brain conjures up. Have a good night, Hunt.’ I storm off, needing to get out of here before I swing at him. He hasn’t got time for this? What, now or ever?
The arsehole.
Making my way from the room, I resist the urge to go back and slap his face. Then I wish I had, because someone else has just caught my eye. Someone I fucking hate. My hackles shoot up. I swallow down my growl of anger, my eyes drilling into Alexa’s back as I force myself to continue on my way. My feet have become heavy, telling me that leaving Becker here would be a stupid move with her loitering around. Those long, skinny legs look poised and ready to wrap around a waist at any moment.
I bump into a chair, knocking it into the table. ‘Shit,’ I curse, ignoring all of the disapproving looks being thrown at me. ‘Sorry.’ I don’t rush to put the chair back, and instead stumble my way towards the door, now set on finding the ladies and composing myself. I’m not leaving here with that floozy on the prowl.
My heels hit the mosaic tiles of the entrance hall, and I dip and weave through the scattered crowds, apologising constantly for bumping into people as I go.
Then I’m suddenly not moving any more. I yelp when something grabs my wrist and yanks me to a stop, nearly pulling my shoulder out of its socket, and before I register who, what and how, I’m being guided back through the crowds. Becker’s unique smell invades my nose, his arm coiled around my waist. ‘Get off me,’ I spit, wriggling to free myself.
‘Shut the fuck up, princess.’
‘Go to hell.’ My feet are barely touching the ground as he moves with conviction, looking straight ahead and ignoring all of the curious looks coming our way.
He heads to the right, taking us through a ballroom that has an orchestra set up in the corner, and then down a corridor. I’m pushed into the room, and the door slams loudly. I take a quick glimpse around to see where he’s taken me. There’s a fireplace, large and elaborate with stone carvings, and huge armchairs scattered here and there. It’s a smoking room.
He points a finger in my face, snarling. ‘There’s not one thing in this world that pisses me off more than you.’
He’s got a nerve. I’ve done nothing wrong. ‘Back at ya, Hunt.’ My eyes, damn my eyes, automatically drop to his crotch. I suck my lip between my teeth when I see he’s solid. Because he finds himself hard, even when he’s mad with me. I look up through my lashes at him, to the poised, het-up beast of a man before me.
Who’s loaded to the eyeballs with craving.
He releases a strangled growl, and the next second, he lunges at me, tackling my body and virtually throwing me at the wall. My mouth is taken greedily, hard and forceful, and I accept it all, bringing my leg up, curling my thigh around his waist. But he pushes it down aggressively, biting on my lip. My protest gets no further than my throat before I’m spun around, pushed front-forward into the wall, meeting it with force. I feel his hand meet the back of my thigh, and I clench my eyes shut, knowing what’s coming. He wrenches the hem of my dress up.
Smack!
I scream, a mixture of pain and delight, before he flings me back around and grabs me behind my thighs, hauling me up to his body. One hand holds me in place against the wall while his other makes quick work of freeing himself from the confines of his trousers.
Then on a carnal roar, he levels himself up and smashes into me, jerking me up the wall. The shock invasion has me slamming