Page 227 of Remy

I’m in love with this woman. There’s no doubt about it.

“I need you two to create a diversion.” I shove my cell back in my pocket and focus on Valenti. “One that keeps Ollie’s friends occupied while I kidnap their favorite troublemaker.”

He jerks his chin in understanding. “I’ll organize some shots. Free alcohol will do the trick.”

“It could also induce a stampede,” Russo mutters.

“I don’t care.” Anticipation thrums through me. “Do it.”

My men head toward the closest bar while Ollie continues to eye-fuck me from across the room.

I can already feel her. Smell her. Fucking taste her as she dances for me and only me.

She’s going to come so hard tonight she’ll feel it for days.

We both will.

I remain in the shadows, watching my own private dance until Russo and Valenti catch my attention on their way to the DJ stand, two bottle service waitresses with full trays of shots following behind them.

Russo talks to the DJ, grabs the guy’s microphone, then announces an impromptu dance competition with free drinks for patrons with the best moves.

Cheers of excitement pierce my ears as people flood the dance floor, the music switching to a more frenzied techno beat.

I stalk forward while Ollie is distracted, her gaze frantically scanning for her friends as they’re pushed apart by the growing crowd.

“Big mistake, baby girl.” I stop in front of her, not waiting for a response before hauling her over my shoulder.

She squeals, the noise smothered beneath the frenzy.

“Text your friends and tell them you’re using the bathroom,” I demand.

“How?” She wiggles. “I’m upside down.”

“Don’t pretend those hands aren’t skillful.”

Her laughter vibrates into my shoulder as I carry her to the staff only door and slam it shut with my foot once we’re in the empty hall.

“I get the distinct impression you enjoy playing with me.” I place her on her feet, not giving her time to find her footing before I walk into her, backing her against the brick wall. “Did you enjoy taunting me?”

She rolls her lips together, fighting a smile as her clutch falls to the floor. “I’m not sure why you’d get that impression.” Her cheeks lift. Her eyes gleam. She fights so hard to contain that smile, but it breaks free to slam right through me. Ruthlessly.

I’ve been attracted to her fear. Her tenacity. Her lust.

But this—her happiness—it’s the holy fucking grail.

I cage her against the wall, my predatory eyes taking liberties with the raised view. The thin spaghetti straps. The gaping neckline. “What the fuck are you wearing, Pyro?”

She flinches. “You don’t approve?”

“Oh, I fucking approve. Every man under this roof does.” I meet her gaze, our proximity making every inch of me thrum.

Her brow furrows. “I wore it for you… but now I can’t tell if I should’ve chosen something more subdued.”

“You can’t tell because I’m so fucking hard it’s difficult to convey appreciation.” I palm her waist, the warmth of her curves sinking into my blood. “I’d never police your wardrobe. I’m far more inclined to cut out the eyes of the men who don’t deserve to look at you.”

Her smile returns, the effect even more detrimental to my composure when it’s timid. “I like that answer.”

I inch closer, teasing us both with the breath of space between our lips. “I hope I’m equally impressed with yours when you tell me why you’re not wearing my ring.”

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