Booze and Bullets (Brooklyn Brothers #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,29

In front of all the leering men who wanted what they couldn’t have.

The mere idea of any one of them touching her had my blood pumping overtime.

Then one of the motherfuckers actually did touch her.

The ballsy son of a bitch shot forward when she was coming to me—to me—and pulled her back against him.

Oh, that’s not fucking happening.

But again, Lexi did the unexpected.

I should have seen it coming. Her leaning back into the bastard. Her sultry eyes challenging me with every sway of her hips. It felt like someone was driving an ice pick through my skull every time I saw their hips rock together and make contact. His hands were too close to the juncture of her perfect, slim thighs. His mouth was too close to that neck—the neck she had been arching in my direction. And his dick was way the fuck too close to her luscious ass.

The sparkle in her eyes said she obviously took great pleasure in fucking with my head.

When he wrapped his burly arm around her middle, I was seconds away from taking out my blade and slicing off his hands with one fell swoop. I was skilled enough to make it quick and clean.

Jesus Christ, Rossetti.

Has jealousy turned you into Jeffrey Dahmer?

This wasn’t jealousy. That required a person to actually care, which I didn’t. It was just my protective nature, my sense of responsibility toward her, that had me launching myself toward them like I was charging into battle. I hadn’t known her long enough to feel possessive or proprietary. There was no reason to anyway.

She wasn’t actually mine.

But she wasn’t anyone else’s either. Not while I was in the picture. Not as long as we had to remain tied together.

For better or worse, Lexi Kozlov belonged to me until the day we signed those annulment papers.

She was watching my approach with a fascinated expression, like I was an animal at the fucking zoo.

I hoped she was happy.

Because it was her own hand that had let this tiger out of its cage.

Wrapping my hand around her forearm, I yanked her away from her dancing partner and placed her behind me. The bastard’s head snapped up, a look of outrage transforming his European face. He was no shrimp, but I still had both height and weight on him.

Not to mention, he’d put his hands on something that didn’t belong to him. I had enough angry fuel inside me to mow down this entire club, if I had to.

“She’s with me,” I delivered sharply, raising my voice to be heard over the music.

He straightened to his full height, his glazed eyes flicking over to Lexi. “Didn’t look like she was with you.”

“You don’t want to make me say it again.”

The dumbass snarled. “Or what?”

I took a step forward, sending him back one. “Walk away.”

Whether he sensed my don’t even think about fucking with me attitude, or he glimpsed my gun holster underneath my suit jacket—which I wouldn’t even need if he decided to throw down—the man visibly shrank in on himself. On a muttered oath, he slunk off and disappeared into the crowd.

Cracking my neck, I turned to see Lexi watching the scene with avid interest. Dare I say, she almost looked a little…turned on.

For about two seconds.

Then she wiped that tantalizing mixture of emotions from her face and notched up her chin. “I guess you won that dick-measuring contest, huh?”

I gnashed my teeth without meaning to. “I’m always going to win when it comes to you.”

Fuck, I hadn’t meant to say that either. It was the first thing that popped into my head and it just slipped out.

Her mouth went slack.

I needed to put us back on the same footing we were on before that inconsiderate douchebag ruined our dancing/exhibitionism moment. Snatching up her hand, I spun her around until her pert little ass was nestled snugly against my aching cock.

“Now, legs…” My hand slid up her bare thigh. My lips grazed the shell of her ear. “Show me what those legs can really do.”

Was that the music? Or had that breathy moan just come from her?

A tense moment passed where neither of us moved. I wasn’t above coaxing her, but I would never force her. If she wanted to walk away, so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time since I’d met her that I’d have to release the powder keg inside me with my own hand.

Twice already I’d had to fuck my own fist with her face swimming in my mind’s

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