Page 64 of They All Own Me

"So am I." His lips trail down my neck, and I feel the heat of his breath against my skin. "Let it all out on me."

I push him back into the rolly chair, hard enough that it glides a few inches across the floor. "You asked for it."

His eyes darken with desire as I straddle him.

"Damn," he murmurs, eyes locked on mine.

My fingers tangle in his hair as I pull him into another kiss, this one fiercer than before. My body responds to every touch, every kiss, making it harder to stay angry.

"You think this will make me forget?" I whisper against his lips.

"No," he growls back, his hands moving up my sides. "But it'll make you feel better."

I push him back again, rolling us farther across the room. My nails dig into his shoulders as I grind against him.

"You're fucking amazing," he mutters.

"Shut up," I snap, but there's no venom in it. Only heat.

Connor's lips curl into a smirk as he pulls me closer again.

My head falls back as his mouth moves down to explore new territory. My anger dissolves into raw need as I surrender to the moment.

For now, revenge can wait.

Chapter 33

Dominic

I pullinto the circular driveway, cutting the engine as Issac and Esteban exit their respective vehicles. The front door bursts open and Tatum comes rushing out, her auburn hair streaming behind her, wearing one of those sundresses she seems to favor.

"Thank god you're back! Did you find anything..." Her words trail off as she spots Esteban emerging from his Red Ferrari. She freezes mid-stride, bare feet on the concrete.

"Mrs. Cope." Esteban's voice carries across the driveway, smooth as aged whiskey. "The surveillance photos don't do you justice."

I move to stand between them, more out of habit than necessity. "Boss, this is Tatum. Tatum, meet Esteban Rodriguez."

"Don't look so worried, dear." Esteban straightens his tailored jacket. "I don't bite. At least not without provocation." His dark eyes assess her with calculated interest. "Though I must say, your husband's taste in wives far exceeds his business acumen."

"I..." Tatum glances at me, uncertainty clear in her green eyes. I give her a slight nod.

"Come inside," she says, recovering her composure. "I just finished making lunch if you're hungry."

"Domestic skills too?" Esteban raises an eyebrow. "Thomas truly is a fool." He gestures toward the door. "After you, Mrs. Cope. We have much to discuss about your husband's... extracurricular activities."

I watch as Tatum leads the way inside, her shoulders straight despite the tension I can read in every line of her body. This meeting could change everything - for better or worse.

We settle in the kitchen, Esteban taking a seat at the marble island while she serves up some kind of pasta that smells incredible. The tension in the air could be cut with one of my combat knives.

"So," Esteban swirls his wine glass, "your husband seems to think he can ignore my calls indefinitely."

I lean against the counter, watching Tatum's reaction. She sets down her fork with careful precision. "That sounds like Thomas."

"Three million now." Esteban's voice drops to that dangerous whisper I know well. "Plus interest. And now he's dealing with the Yakuza behind my back."

"Boss," I interject, "So we're restructuring the westside deal?"

"The westside deal is dead." Esteban's knuckles whiten around his glass. "Mr. Senator made sure of that when he tipped off the feds about our shipping routes."

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