Page 17 of Riot

I’m going to lose the bet, and I can’t fucking wait.

I pass him, but he’s too busy staring after Fallon. “Baby?” the young actress calls, laughing self-consciously as she tries to get his attention. “Don’t you agree?”

“Oh, sure,” he replies, looking at her and forcing a smile.

Shaking my head, I head down the corridor and to the wooden bathroom door. I know he’ll follow her, and I’m going to make him realize she’s not his anymore.

I push through the wooden door, finding Fallon drying her hands in front of the marble vanity. For a moment, I just stare, and her eyes raise in the mirror, narrowing on mine.

“Kage?” she says, turning to me.

I cover the four steps in one big jump, and she flinches.

“I lose,” I snarl as I grab her perfectly coiled hair and pull her to me, crushing my lips to hers. I swallow her gasp. Her hands beat my chest before they slow and then grip my jacket, and I grin in victory.

I back her up until she hits the sink, my tongue sweeping inside her mouth to taste her. My groan echoes around the room as I hold her tightly. Her taste burns into my brain, as does the softness of her lips and the catch in her breath.

I could kiss her forever, and I know now that I can never let Fallon go.

It has never felt like this . . . never been like this.

I try to get closer, to merge our mouths into one, but she pulls away, panting. My chest is rising rapidly as I stare into her wide eyes. I rub my thumb across her lips, smearing her lipstick even more, liking that out of place perfection that makes her real.

I hear footsteps. “Play along, sweetheart.”

I crouch down, pushing her dress up and covering her crotch with my face so it looks indecent just as the door opens. She gasps, and there’s a curse.

“Fallon?” he says.

“Little busy.”

I can’t help but smirk as I place a chaste kiss over her panties and lift my head, licking my lips as her ex gapes at me and then her.

“What the fuck are you doing? She’s mine!” her ex blunders, his face turning red as I smirk at him. My eyes go to Fallon, whose eyes are wide. Her smeared lipstick makes it very obvious what we were doing.

“She doesn’t feel like yours.” I grin at him as I lean in and inhale. “She doesn’t smell like yours.” I lick my lips as I grin at him. “She doesn’t taste like yours.”

“You bastard!” He storms across the room, and I stand to meet him. I don’t lift my hand, even though it would be easy to hit him back. I let his fist hit my face.

The corner of my lip splits, and my tongue dips out, lapping at the blood there as I grin at him. “Oh, I’m so scared. Remind me who you are again?”

“I’m her husband,” he hisses.

“Ex,” she retorts, moving to my side.

“Ex-husband. A nobody, right? The only thing interesting about you was Fallon, and now she’s gone and you’re a nobody. Let me tell you who I am.” I step closer, and he steps back. “My name is Kage, and I’m an international rock star with more bank accounts and houses than you could even imagine. My name is screamed around this world. I am something, and Fallon? Fallon is everything. She is the reason I’m here. She’s the reason I am who I am. You are nobody. You are nothing. Insignificant.” I back him out of the bathroom as he pales. “Just somebody who was lucky enough to be plucked from the crowd to be at her side. But us? We are celebrities, and we are perfect together, so hit me again. I dare you. Hit me. I don’t even need to lift a finger to destroy you.”

I wait, and I see the moment he decides. He abandons logic when he looks at her, his jealousy and need to be number one taking hold, and he swings. His fist is caught midair by a hand with black-tipped nails—a familiar hand, one I have to hold. She steps into my view, thrusting him away so he hits the wall, and the look of cold hatred she aims at him makes me rock hard.

Her chin is jutted out as she glares down at him like he’s a peasant at her feet. Fuck.

“He might not hit back, but I will. You have no right to claim me. I was never yours. You were just a passing amusement, and you have passed. He’s right. You are nothing—a failed painter, a failed husband, just a failure—and if you ever try to insert yourself in my life again, you won’t have to worry about him. I will fucking ruin you, and you know I can. You know what I’m capable of.” She reaches for him, and he flinches, but she simply straightens his tie. “If you ever hit him again, I will cut off your hand, which might be the only worthwhile thing about you, and I’ll display it in my house.” She pats his chest. “Understood?”

“Understood,” he whispers, staring at her like she’s a complete stranger.

This is the Fallon I’ve always known and fell in love with.

She is the one who saved me all those years ago.

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