Page 41 of They All Own Me

"Can you blame her?" I smirk. "After being married to that wet blanket? Probably the most exhilarating thing she's seen in years."

Dom emerges from his room, fresh towel in hand. "You two gossiping like schoolgirls or heading to shower? Because I'm not letting that food get cold while you stand here analyzing our hostage's kinks."

"Guest," Connor corrects automatically. "She's more of a guest at this point."

"A guest who gets hot and bothered by blood-spattered hitmen." I push off the wall. "What does that say about her?"

"Says Thomas is an even bigger idiot than we thought." Connor disappears into his room, but not before I catch the hungry look in his eyes.

I grab my own towel, wondering what other surprises Tatum has in store for us. That woman is definitely not the docile housewife everyone thinks she is. And something tells me we've only scratched the surface.

Chapter 23

Isaac

Steam fillsthe bathroom as I step into the shower, hot water pelting my skin. It washes away the grime and blood, but it doesn't do much for the thoughts swirling in my head. Casey? Or was it Cassidy? I can barely remember her face, let alone her name. Blonde, petite, she had this annoying habit of giggling at everything I said. She didn't last long.

The water cascades over me, and I close my eyes, letting the heat soak into my muscles. It's been too long since I had any real relief. This line of work doesn't exactly leave room for much "me time."

Casey—yeah, it was Casey—she didn't care for my roughness. Thought it was too intense, too overwhelming. Hell, most women can't handle it. They like to think they can until they get a taste of what I'm really about.

I scrub at the bloodstains on my arms, watching them swirl down the drain in a spiral of red and white foam. My mind drifts to Tatum, standing there in her tight little pants, hips for days, her eyes darkening as she took in the sight of us covered in blood.

She's different. There's something about her—something wild under that polished exterior. Thomas has dulled her shine, but it's still there, waiting to be unleashed.

The memory of her wetting her lip as she stared at me sends a jolt through my body. She's got fire in her, and I bet she'd enjoy a man who isn't afraid to be rough. A man who takes what he wants and doesn't apologize for it.

I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts. Tatum is off-limits—for now at least. We need her to play along with our plan if we're going to take down Thomas and his shady deals.

Still, I can't help but wonder what it would be like to see that fire fully ignited.

I close my eyes, leaning against the cool tile. Her image fills my mind. I picture her in that kitchen, hips swaying slightly as she stirred the pot, and my hand moves lower, wrapping around myself.

"Damn it," I mutter, stroking slowly. My grip tightens as I imagine her hands on me instead.

I see her smirk, that knowing look she gave us. The way her eyes roamed over our bloodied bodies, not with disgust but with desire. My breath hitches as I speed up, water cascading over my shoulders.

In my mind's eye, she's standing in front of me now, those green eyes locked on mine as she drops to her knees. Her lips part slightly, teasing, as she looks up at me with that same dark hunger.

"Fuck," I groan, stroking faster.

Her voice echoes in my head – that husky tone when she told us to shower before dinner. Practical yet dripping with something more. The way she commanded us so effortlessly while making it sound like a suggestion.

I imagine her mouth on me, warm and wet, taking me in as her hands glide up my thighs. My free hand slams against the tile for support as I pump harder.

"Such a good girl, Tatum," I hiss through clenched teeth.

The image shifts – she's back in that red lingerie when we watched her in Thomas' office, but she's not advancing on that stupid fuck, no, this time she's straddling me on the kitchen counter. Her hair spills over her shoulders as she leans down to kiss me, those full lips pressing against mine with a mix of sweetness and urgency.

The steam envelops me as my hand continues its relentless rhythm. My mind drifts, and I wonder if Tatum would get wet watching us do a job. Would her eyes darken with lust as she saw us handle our business, each punch, each shot making her heart race?

"Goddamn," I mutter under my breath.

I picture her standing in the shadows, biting her lip as she watches me dominate the room. Her breath hitching each time I take control. She'd probably try to keep quiet, but her arousal would betray her. Maybe she'd be slick with need by the time we were done.

My hand moves faster.

In my mind, she steps out of the shadows after we finish, walking toward me with that same fire in her eyes. She'd press herself against me, not caring about the blood and sweat, just needing to feel me. Her fingers would trail down my chest, nails scraping lightly as she looks up at me.

---