Page 66 of Inked Adonis

And I won’t stand a chance.

23

SAMUIL

My little mouse is torturing me.

She doesn’t know it—or maybe she does and this is some kind of cruel revenge for my good behavior today. All I know is that watching her bounce from appointment to appointment in those painted-on jeans and that scrap of white cotton she calls a shirt has been the sweetest kind of hell.

I’ve had to play nice. Had to be charming. Had to keep my hands to myself while every cell in my body screamed to claim what’s mine.

The second we step into the elevator, I’m done being good.

Nova gasps as I crowd her against the wall, caging her with my body. She melts against me instantly, her hips seeking mine, those soft lips parting on a breath. But because she’s Nova—my contrary, stubborn Nova—she forces her mouth into a frown. “There’s a whole elevator, Sam. We don’t have to be on top of each other.”

“No, we don’t have to be.” I plant my hand on her hip, watching her lashes flutter, feeling her breath catch. Pure fucking temptation. “But I’ve been good all day. I’m tired of holding myself back.”

“You were holding yourself back?”

The genuine surprise in her voice makes me want to show her exactly how much I’ve been restraining myself. If she could see what she does to me, she’d understand why it’s a miracle I didn’t bend her over the table at lunch and scandalize a cafeteria full of elderly observers.

Now, we’re finally alone—aside from Rufus, who’s pulling at his leash, eager to get through the elevator doors—and I’m so hard it’s painful. I’ll take her right here on the foyer carpet if I have to. Given Rufus’s numerous public displays of affection, he’s in no position to judge.

But when the doors slide open, Rufus doesn’t bound into the penthouse like usual.

He growls.

“Ru...?” Nova leans around me to check on the dog. The brush of her body against mine sends electricity crackling through my veins, but even that contact can’t drown out the warning bells in my head.

Rufus has never growled. Not once. Not even when the squirrels and pigeons gang up on him in the park.

But now, his hackles are raised, teeth bared, and suddenly I’m acutely aware of just how massive and intimidating he can be.

It’s also clear that something is very, very wrong.

I step into the foyer, extending my hand toward Nova and the dog. “Stay here.”

The problem is, big as Rufus may be, he’s still a puppy with a puppy’s impulse control. The moment I move past him, he yanks the leash from Nova’s grip with crushing force and charges into the apartment, barking like a demon unleashed.

“Rufus, no!” Nova races after him.

Cursing, I follow them both, halting in the living room doorway when I see what’s triggered Rufus’s protective instincts.

Suddenly, I’m perfectly content to let the dog handle this situation.

Someone needs to teach my brother a lesson.

Ilya stands silhouetted against the Chicago skyline, hands shoved in his pockets, hair slicked back with enough product to supply a small salon. He spins around and stumbles backward against the glass when faced with one hundred and thirty pounds of snarling Great Dane. His forehead wrinkles in recognition. “Is that— What the fuck is Kat’s dog doing here?”

The fact that Rufus knows Ilya makes this moment infinitely sweeter. The dog truly is an excellent judge of character.

Rufus lowers his head with another growl and inches closer, ears flattened in attack position.

And my brother pulls out his gun.

Ilya’s always been a shit shot, so my money’s on Rufus in this fight. But before I can command the dog to stand down, Nova streaks past me like a bullet in her own right.

“Don’t shoot him!” She throws herself between the gun and Rufus, arms raised like a shield. “He’s just a puppy!”

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