Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
When I spot her from across the gallery, rage rises inside of me so intensely that it's hard to breathe. Not only has she been waylaid by another man who has roped her into a conversation, but his arm is resting on the bartop behind her, blocking her in. He leans in close to her as he talks, and while I can't see her face, I can tell that she doesn't want to be there. Her back is nearly against the wall, her drink clutched in front of her.
Time slows, blood running hot in my veins as I make my way towards them. I didn't know who the fuck was talking to her, but he has no right to look at her like that. Hell, I didn't want him looking at her at all.
She doesn't belong to him or anyone else. Isla is mine.
The crowd parts almost instinctively as I move, strides long but not too rushed. It's hard not to run to her when Isla catches my eye over the other man's shoulder, but I keep it together, at least on the outside. I'm not going to give this asshole the satisfaction of causing too much of a scene. It's only his fear that I want.
When I reach them, the moron still hasn't noticed me. "Having fun?"
The man straightens and turns. I don't recognize him, but his stance is way too cocky for my liking. His hair is thinning, his suit is expensive, but it doesn't matter. I don't care who he is. There isn't a person on this earth so important that I wouldn't break their legs for getting between me and Isla Cross.
"Yes, thanks for asking," he says, grinning at me like we're old friends. His hand comes up to rest on Isla's bare shoulder, and my vision goes red. I want to break every single one of his fingers.
"You're done here," I tell him, not even bothering to look at him anymore. Isla looks nervous, and I just want her out of here. "You've got three seconds to get your hand off of her."
He blinks, but he doesn't move his hand. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
I grin, but it's more of a silent snarl. The man pales slightly, but still, he doesn't move. I've given him plenty of chances to back down and leave of his own volition. That option is now gone.
Without a second thought, I grab the wrist of the hand that rests on Isla's shoulder. I step forward, using my weight and height to crowd him back into the bar behind him. It's subtle enough to not be noticed by the crowd around us, but there's no mistaking the look of fear in his eyes.
"I don't want to have to say this again," I tell him quietly, twisting his wrist enough to make it hurt. "You're going to get the fuck out of here and never speak to Isla again. And if you ever touch her again, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"
"I … yeah," he mumbles, wincing as I tighten my grip on his wrist. "Damn, dude, I was just talking to her. I swear."
I stare at him, trying to determine whether or not I believe him. He looks scared enough for it to be true, so I release him with a warning glare.
"Get the fuck out of here."
He scurries away without looking back.
"Are you alright?" I ask Isla, turning to her. She looks a little shaken, but her pupils are wide as she nods, her breathing fast. I recognize the look in her eyes, the same one that was there when I sent the tailor running for touching her, and all the fury inside me shifts gears into something else. Something dark and hungry and desperate to possess.
Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, and that's my breaking point. I don't grab her wrist, but link her fingers with mine, pulling her close enough that only she can hear, "Follow me."
I have no idea where the hell I'm taking her, but I lead Isla down a flight of stairs to an empty, lesser-used floor of the museum. It takes a few minutes of searching before I find a small room, and I pull Isla inside, closing the door behind me and hitting the light switch.
"What are you doing?" she asks breathlessly as I back her up until her legs hit the desk. We're in some sort of office, but it's empty of anything recently used. Just the desk and some boxes stacked to the side.
"Seeing that fucker touch you..." I hiss, hands already going to her waist. "I'm the only man that will ever touch you again, Isla. Understand? You belong to me."
After a week of my touch, she's primed and ready, easily agreeable, "Yes."
This time, though, I'm not going to be on my knees. I take one of her small hands and place it over my cock, hard and imprinted on my pants, and her sapphire eyes go even wider. "You want this?" I ask, leaning in to nuzzle her neck. She tilts her head back, giving me more space to lick and nip at her skin, leaving faint red marks. "I can see you want it."