Page 98 of Black Sheep

Her eyes meet mine again. Searching. Like they did at XYNYC.

My gaze drops to her plump lips; I’m almost wishing for the questions I know she’s dying to ask me. After a minute, she gives me a jerky nod.

I shouldn’t breathe easier. I want to keep her. I’ve wanted to keep her from the moment she walked into my club four weeks ago. Hell, from the moment I set eyes on her seventeen years ago.

She was mine first. That gives me fucking rights.

But I’m finding out that holding on to her when she doesn’t want to be held is going to be a problem.

“Axel?”

I refocus on her stunning face. “Yes?”

“You look…angry.”

“Yeah, that fucking poetry is worse than Chinese water torture. It might be perfect for them, but I want to swallow a bucket of nails listening to that.”

She probably doesn’t buy it, but a twisted little smile curves her lips. “Don’t look now, but one of them looks extremely constipated. So yeah, I’ll say it’s working.”

“Let’s leave them to it. Fancy a late-evening pizza?” I ask.

She blinks then nods eagerly. “God yes, I’m starving.”

I hold out my hand. “Let’s head upstairs. Delivery’s already on its way.”

She hops down from the barstool. “Is it—?”

“Half anchovies, half ham and pineapple thin crust, with a side order of buffalo mozzarella balls?”

Her eyes light up, her breath catching a little. “Yes.”

I lean down and taste her lips. Because I can’t help myself. “Yes.”

Her happy groan goes straight to my cock. And the stupid jerking thing in my chest.

I keep her hand trapped in mine as we head for the elevator. Then draw her close the moment the door shuts. She kisses me back with enough fervor to makes me rethink a few things.

When we part, she looks at me with a touch of trepidation.

“Now you look…possessed.”

I walk her down the hall and into the suite in silence. I don’t want to confess what’s on my mind for fear that I’ll spook her.

Because I am possessed. By her.

She’s mine. She’s mine. She’s always been fucking mine.

And regardless of the consequences, I’m keeping her.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

FULL DISCLOSURE: PART ONE

Six days later

Cleo’s lying on the sofa in my office at the Punishment Club where I’ve temporarily moved my base of operations. One leg propped up, the other foot on the floor, she rolls the tip of a pin between her teeth as she frowns down at the New York Times crossword puzzle. Her hair is spread over the arm of the sofa, rippling with life from the bright sunshine slanting through the window. Her striped, off-the-shoulder blue sundress rides halfway up one thigh. From my position behind the desk, I can see the faintest outline of her bare pussy against the light fabric.

“A primal transaction…” she muses.

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