Page 78 of Brutal Savage

“Thank you.”

Impatiently, I glance through the glass door leading further into the school, wanting to get Brody and Elara and get out of here so I can talk to her again. Make her see reason before I have to resort to drastic measures.

Just then, Elara appears in the hall, talking to someone.

Not just someone.

A man.

He’s staring at her, discreetly glancing at her mouth and other parts of her body.

Hot rage boils my blood.

She doesn’t see me. Not yet.

The bastard doesn’t seem much older than me, and when he places a palm on her shoulder, I lose all self-control.

“Could you buzz me in?” I tell the secretary. “I want to have a word with Ms. Hill about Brody.”

“Of course.”

No one gets to touch her. Or look at her like that. No one but me.

I try to contain the adrenaline coursing through me as I slowly approach. She’s yet to look at me. Yet to catch the evidence of my unfathomable jealousy.

“I would love to take you out sometime,” he tells her.

Got a death wish?

She laughs nervously, shifting on her nude stilettos. The black pencil skirt, so damn sexy on her—tight and classy—makes me want to bend her over my knee and watch her ass get pink from my hand.

“That is so sweet of you, Vincent, but I?—”

That’s when her attention lands on me and her pretty mouth parts, eyes lost to mine, shock and arousal growing within them.

A miniscule smirk tilts up my mouth.

Vincent glances between us, his eyes expanding. Because, of course, he knows who I am. Everyone in this town does.

I’m gonna be watching you now, Vincent. Bad move to try to hit on my future wife.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, trying to hide her shock.

“I’m here to get Brody and to pick you up. Figured I’d give you a ride since I’m here.”

Her chest rises and falls, the swell of her breasts large enough for my hands.

I never cared much about the specifics of a woman’s chest size or the type of body she had. I’ve always found all kinds of bodies beautiful.

But with Elara, I now have a type.

What’s-His-Name clears his throat. “Mr. Quinn, uh, hello. I’m?—”

“I don’t care who you are.”

The cockroach stares up at me with just the right amount of fear.

“I’ve missed you.” I kiss her temple, and she jerks beside me.

---