Page 46 of Dark Horse

“I’m not the romantic sort, and I’m not feeling threatened. I’m just looking for clarity.”

“Clarity on what?” Her tone is impatient.

“Do the two of you have something going on? Something thatisromantic?” I look at her, and she avoids my gaze.

“So what if we did?”

“Then you’d be breaking rules you agreed to.”

“It would predate our rules. It started on New Year’s Eve.”

“So you knowingly entered into our agreement when you had a boyfriend.”

“He’s not a boyfriend.”

“Paramour. Plaything. Whatever you fuckin’ want to call him.” I step closer to her, and she takes a step back. “And you didn’t tell me at the time. Not when you took pictures for me. Not when you were teasing me about your fantasies. And sure as fuck not on the phone the other night.”

“Keep your voice down,” she hisses.

“Why? Worried your guy’s going to find out all the dirty little things you do for me in your spare time?”

SEVENTEEN

DAKOTA

“You saidyou wouldn’t tell anyone. That weshouldn’ttell anyone.” I take another step back, and my ass hits the railing of the deck as he closes in on me. My eyes search his for some sign of reassurance, but I’m not getting any. He looks wild, like his mind is somewhere ten steps ahead of me while I struggle to catch up.

He leans in, his lips so close to the shell of my ear that I can feel his breath dance down my neck, a soft derisive chuckle coming from his chest before he speaks.

“Oh, I won’t tell a fucking soul.” His hands ghost their way over my hips and then slide in until his thumbs meet at my navel. “You’re gonna do that for me.”

He moves to unbutton my pants, and his lips are at my throat a moment later. It’s not a soft exploration but a desperateclaiming. His tongue laves over my pulse point, and his teeth scrape against my skin as I writhe underneath him. It’s too many sensations at once and not enough all at the same time. My hands go to his chest. I tell myself I need to stop him. That we’re feet away from everyone we know, and he’s not going to hold back if someone asks what’s going on. I’m not sure if he’ll even give me an opportunity to speak. But I don’t want him to stop. Grant Stockton’s hands are finally on me. His mouth is at my throat, and his hand is slowly teasing the edge of my waistband.

“Tell him to come save you from the one you hate so much. You can do that, can’t you?” he whispers as he pulls down the zipper of my shorts.

“Grant…” I breathe out his name. I don’t know what else to say.

“Scream his name. Tell him to save you,” he instructs as he turns me around and presses me against the railing, my back to his front, his lips at my ear. “That’s what you wanted. You were gonna have a sugar daddy save you from me, right? He’d be perfect for it. Could take you away from this fucked-up little town with all that football money. All that fame would keep you safe from me. You and Hazel could sit in the box together every Sunday like two pretty little wives.” His fingers ease under the waistband of my panties, and he nips at my throat.

I can’t think. Can’t breathe. My whole body’s on edge, just waiting for him to make his next move—silently begging him to do it. It’s wrong though. So fucking wrong. Hazel would be hurt. Hayden would be confused.

“Anyone could walk out here right now.” I try to talk sense into him, but he’s not listening.

“That’s what you want, right?” His fingers creep lower. “Someone to put a stop to all this. Save you from me. Why don’t you call for him?”

“You know why,” I whisper back.

“I have my fucking suspicions. You were so quick to comply with my orders, so willing to follow my rules. So eager to please me and give me what I wanted.” His fingers ease their way down, just on the cusp of teasing my clit.

“Grant, please…” I lean into his touch, and my ass brushes his cock through his jeans. He’s hard and thick against me, and I want to beg him to fuck me. Just put us both out of our misery and take until we’re both exhausted on the floor.

“Tell me what I want to hear. Tell me why you agreed to all of this, and I’ll give you what you want,” he taunts me.

“I don’t want to be saved. I want you,” I whimper, so afraid to even speak the words out loud that I hold my breath in the wake of them. At least until he delves down and brushes my clit with his fingers, spreading them so that he gently teases either side, skimming the edges of my piercing. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time. His hand freezes mid-motion.

“What isthis?” His voice is rough.

“A piercing.”

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