Page 62 of Damaged Protector

With disheveled hair and ruined makeup, the woman looked like a fucking mess. Which was exactly how I liked it.

Yanking her forward, I bit her earlobe—hard—and rasped, “You want to get out of here?”

Katya’s simple response was coated in lust. “Yes.” Nuzzling her cheek against my beard, she whispered, “I was with someone for a while.”

I pulled back and looked at her. “Is it going to be a problem?” I may have been a selfish prick, but I wouldn’t fuck another man’s woman.

“No, he’s moved away now, but…”

She hesitated, and I dipped my eyebrows low over my eye sockets. “What is it?”

“I’ve… unlocked a new kink.”

“What is it?” I repeated, and she leaned forward to speak her darkest desire directly against my ear. My eyebrows lifted. It wasn’t exactly my jam, but I wasn’t averse to it either. “I can do that,” I assured her.

We rose, and I wrapped my fingers around the back of her neck to guide her from the club.

And the Den of Sin is once again open for business.

Chapter 18

“Hello,” I greeted the hostess at the restaurant where I was meeting Scott, Travis, Ana, and Mackenzie. “I believe my party is already here. I got caught in traffic.”

The woman, who was dressed in an elegant black dress, didn’t seem to appreciate my apologetic tone. Her eyes raked up and down me, and I suddenly felt underdressed in a blue and white floral sundress with my hair in two braids.

“Name,” she asked snootily.

“Fitz. Mallori Fitz,” I intoned in my best James Bond voice, but that didn’t seem to amuse her at all as she ran a perfect red-tipped nail down the screen of her iPad. “The reservation is probably under Ponder.”

“Yes, here it is. I’ll show you to your table.”

I followed the woman into the dining area, and if I hadn’t felt underdressed before, I certainly did now. This place was much swankier than I’d expected, not your typical hangout for graduate students.

Three huge chandeliers dotted the embossed, gold-tiled ceiling, the lighting dim despite their size. My white sandals seemed way too casual to be traipsing across the deep-red carpet that lined the floors, but I pushed that from my mind as I tried not to bump into anyone’s tables.

Seriously, why is it so goddamn dark in here?

“Here you are,” the hostess said, stopping beside a table and gesturing with one slim hand.

I murmured a thanks as Scott rose and reached for me. “Mallori, you look beautiful,” he said, attempting to kiss the back of my hand, but I slid it smoothly from his grasp and scooted around him and into the booth. As he sat, I placed my purse between us so he couldn’t edge too close.

“This is Mackenzie and Travis Martin,” he introduced. “Guys, this is Mallori.”

“Oh, are you married?” I asked the pretty redhead across from me, vaguely recognizing her face from the online orientation we’d had.

She held up her left hand, wiggling her fingers to show off her ring, a modest, round-cut solitaire on a gold band. “Four months now,” she reported, snuggling happily against her groom. Travis appeared to be of average height, with a round face and an easy smile.

“Nice to meet you, Mallori.”

“You as well.” I glanced around the table, which was obviously designed only for four people. “Where’s Ana?”

The married couple shared a confused look before Travis said, “Ana? I didn’t know—”

He was cut off by Scott, who cleared his throat and announced, “She couldn’t make it, but it’s okay. We’re all here, and we’re going to have a great time. This is one of the most expensive restaurants in Dallas.”

My blood began a low simmer in my veins as I realized what was happening. Ana was never invited. Scott had designed this as a double date. A romantic one, if the candlelit tables and small rose bouquets were any indication.

Before I could say anything, a black-suited server appeared with menus before rattling off the specials. My gaze dropped to the menu and practically fell out of my head at the prices.

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