Page 22 of Faking It with the Enforcer

I want to drag her somewhere private where we can finish our conversation. Where I can tell her that I liked hearing her moan my name because I’ve wanted her from the moment I laid eyes on her. Where I tell her that I don’t give a fuck about our age difference or Mike or the fact that we live in different provinces.

That I’m halfway in love with her.

“What do you think of Toronto so far, Emily?” asks Lilah, dragging Emily’s attention away from me. I both hate it and love it. I want her all to myself, but I also want her to make friends. And I’m curious to hear the answer to her question. Toronto’s come to feel like home to me, and I want to know what she thinks, too.

Emily grins, once again tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love it. It’s so vibrant and full of life, and so pretty with Lake Ontario right there. I’m looking forward to exploring while I’m here.”

“I’ll show you around,” I say, twisting a fiery lock around my finger and tugging gently. “Make sure you hit all the highlights.”

She smiles and blushes slightly, and the conversation moves on to other topics, but I’m not listening. I’m watching Emily, my mind filled with filthy thoughts. Thoughts about watching my cum drip down her creamy thighs, about green eyes watering as I fuck her mouth, about how perfect she sounds when she moans my name.

I take a long sip of my beer, trying to cool down, but it’s no use. I feel like my body’s on fire. I’m so hard that I’m aching. Dripping. I’m a mess over this tiny slip of a girl.

Lilah and Sadie have taken over the conversation, so I lean in, my lips brushing against Emily’s ear. “You look fucking gorgeous tonight, Em,” I murmur, my voice low and rough. She shivers slightly, her breath hitching.

“Thank you. I sort of wished I’d gotten myself a Hartley jersey to wear before the game.”

“You want to wear my jersey?” I ask, warmth blooming inside me.

“Of course I do,” she says, her eyes bright, her cheeks pink. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “I want everyone to know who I’m cheering for.”

I grin, my heart pounding crazily against my ribs. “That’s perfect, because I want everyone to know whose girl you are.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it as the conversation re-directs to us.

“So, Emily,” says Shane, once again stealing her attention from me. Fucker. “How is your dance internship going?”

“Well, I think,” she says, inclining her head and taking another sip of her wine. “It’s intense and demanding, but I’m learning a lot. There’s a performance at the end that we’ll have to rehearse for, and a select few might be asked to try out if that goes well.”

My ears—and my heart—perk up at that. “Try out? As in become a member of the ballet company here, in Toronto?”

She bites her lip again and nods. “Yeah. It’s extremely competitive, so I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

She may not want to get hers up, but I’ll gladly hoist mine to the skies. There’s a chance she could stay in my city to pursue her dreams? Hell, yes.

“You’re stunningly talented, Em. I believe in you,” I say quietly, coasting my thumb over her shoulder. “Anything I can do to support you, I’ll do. Anything in the world.”

“Aw, you guys are so cute together!” says Lilah, grinning at us. “I had my doubts about Wolf with a girlfriend, but she’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

We all laugh while Emily blushes ruby red, and I shrug. “That she does.”

We chat some more while we finish our drinks and nibble on appetizers. A couple of fans stop by the table to ask for pictures, which we oblige. Once our drinks are gone, the girls excuse themselves to use the ladies’ room. A few moments later, Lilah and Sadie return.

“Where’s Emily?” I ask immediately, muscles tensing.

Sadie points over my shoulder. “She’s just getting a water from the bar. Said she was feeling a little warm.” My head swivels over my shoulder, my heart thumping erratically until I can get eyes on my girl. My pulse settles when I see her standing at the bar with her sexy-as-fuck impeccable posture, thanking the bartender for the glass of water she’s just handed her.

I see it the moment it happens—a man steps up to the bar right next to Emily. He’s close. Too close. He’s got a mullet and a mustache, sporting the greaseball look that seems to be in with the university crowd. She shifts at his presence, and I watch as she goes tense, the smile vanishing from her face. I’m already out of my seat, my heart a war drum in my chest.

I’m almost there when the asshole says something to her, she shakes her head, and then he reaches for her hip. She steps away, but he crowds her, this time aiming for her waist.

Over my dead fucking body is going to touch my girl.

I grab the back of his shirt and yank him away from the bar, then give him a shove in the opposite direction. He stumbles back, a mixture of surprise and rage on his face. He makes themistake of taking a step towards me, and I meet him halfway so that we’re toe to toe. I could break this little fucker in half. I’m not going to, because I want to spend the night with Emily, not in a jail cell. But I could.

“Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. My. Girl,” I growl, my voice low and menacing. I don’t give a fuck about making a scene. All I care about is getting this smarmy prick away from her.

He blanches, swallows thickly, and then mutters something under his breath as he backs away. I think he called me an asshole caveman. I don’t care.

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