Page 45 of Wreck Me

The moment those amber eyes clashed with mine, a rush of electricity rolled through me, igniting my nerve endings.

I swallowed it down, then stepped up closer to Damien.

“Here’s your payment.”

In the next second, I fisted my hand in his hoodie and jerked him down to me, our lips colliding.

There was a brief moment of awkwardness on both our parts, before we managed to rise to the nature of the show we were putting on, both for different reasons.

And then his arms came around me, slamming my body up against his, while I slid my fingers into his hair and thrust my tongue into his mouth.

He met my ferocity head on.

It was hard, rough, and… empty.

Definitely just a show.

When we’d finished eating each other’s faces, he pulled back and swung his head toward Sebastian and Caleb.

Caleb was staring open-mouthed, worry flickering in his eyes too.

And Sebastian… well, he looked pissed.

Beyond pissed.

Seething rage burned into Damien for what seemed like minutes instead of seconds, for the intensity of it alone. And then his gaze snapped to mine.

That ire didn’t dissipate one bit.

If anything it was bolstered by something else.

Something animalistic.

Damien chuckled, very pleased with himself, then turned to leave the ring, as that showboat was almost done with his warmup bullshit.

Before he could get far, I shot out my hand and snatched his hoodie, hissing low, “We’re even now. Hatchet buried too. Clear?”

He grinned, ridiculously over-pleased by the events of tonight. “Oh, hell yeah. Crystal. This was well worth standing down on that parking space bull. Good luck with Vicars, Bluebell.”

Luck.

That had nothing to do with it.

As Vicars entered the ring, I walked to my corner and kicked my hoodie right into the back, then adjusted the black wraps around my wrists and hands that I’d brought with me from my abundant supply of equipment for stuff just like this at home.

“Ain’t gonna need these,” he said, making a show of removing his white wraps. He flashed me a smarmy grin. “Looking forward to this.”

I ignored the provocation and him foolishly believing he didn’t need to worry about going up against me. And I took him in. His black hair was slicked back with a ton of gel into a tight man-bun. He slid off his gold robe, making a show of then tossing it with a burst of aggression into the corner, revealing a pair of white shorts beneath.

He licked his lips at me as he slid his hands over his bare muscled chest, then flexed his biceps at me too.

“Like what you see?” he said, stroking his goatee as he eye-fucked me in my vibrant-blue sports bra and my black yoga pants. “Because I’m sure as fuck liking what you’ve got.”

This asshole, seriously.

When I didn’t respond and just glared, he smirked. “Want a piece of this, kitten?”

“You’re gonna be getting more than a piece,” I bit back.

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