Page 17 of Chemistry: The Chemist

“I didn’t give one,” I replied, turning back toward her. “And if anything ever happens to you, I’ll find her before she finds me.”

“Yes, sir.”

If she was trying to get a rise out of me with her witty remarks, then she’d accomplished the mission she set out on.

“Five minutes.”

“Or what?”

I made the short journey to her, once more, unsure whether I wanted her to hear me over the music or if it was because I hated feeling so far away. The magnetic force quickly grew between us making my blood boil.

Through gritted teeth, I admonished, “You ask too many fucking questions.”

“They’re the epitome of informed decisions.”

“You don’t have a decision to make. I never said you had a choice.”

As she fixed her lips to speak, again, I used the steps to exit the stage. Through the crowd, I ambled until I reached the back of the establishment where I knew Aden would be waiting.

Five minutes or forever, I couldn’t decipher how long it had been before I witnessed a model-like physique dressed in black from head to toe, headed in my direction. The confidence she exuded was the sexiest of her attributes.

She reeked of excellence. A bitch, I was certain she was labeled in the world. A bad bitch, she was labeled in mine. My bitch, she had become in a matter of minutes. I just wondered if she had a clue.

Her new title wasn’t demeaning in any fashion. It was an honorable one. One would elevate her beyond heights she’d ever imagined. The club couldn’t take her places I had prepared for her. Or, give her things I had access to.

“Are you always this—pompous?” she asked, standing in front of me with folded arms and eyebrows that almost met each other right above her nose.

“Are you always this talkative?”

“I asked a question,” she pressed.

“That’s the problem, baby. You ask too many of them motherfuckers.”

I opened the back door, tilting my head toward the seat. She ignored my silent instructions, taking a second to take me all in.

From head to toe, she scanned me with eyes that were large but cut like slits. The structure of her face was unique, reminding me of a feline. High cheeks led to her ears and eyes with winged backs that raced for her hairline.

“Find whatever the fuck you’re looking for?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Get in.”

This time, she climbed inside without a rebuttal. I rounded the truck and slid into the seat beside her.

Already, I was sending a message to Abel, owner of Prime House, letting him know I was on my way and to keep the doors open after closing. Staff wouldn’t mind the extra hours for the increased pay.

It wasn’t until I shut the door did the fragrance of her skin registered with me. Riot. I remembered it vividly. Not because I wanted to, but because Rugger left me no choice.

It was the only fragrance she wore. I believed she was the only one keeping Huffington Fragrance House in business until now.

“Riot.” I cleared my throat. “Good choice.”

“Does your wife wear it, too?” Eden inquired, angling her body in my direction, waiting for me to fold.

Nodding, I latched on to the truth in her words.

“Figured,” she sniggered. “Married men are the most single men on the planet.”

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