Page 47 of Wicked S.O.B.

“Tell me you’re fucking joking, Elyse.” I glare at her across the kitchen island.

She raises her stubborn, gorgeous chin. “No, I’m not. I’m going to class. I’ve already missed too much.”

The coffee I just swallowed feels like acid burning in my gut. I round the island to stand in front of her. Dressed in my Springsteen T-shirt and nothing else, she’s so small. Vulnerable. But oh-so-fucking fierce. I want to wrap her up in my arms and lock her away. She wants to soar.

Compromise. Jesus, that fucking word.

“Please. Reconsider.” The words scorch my throat.

She sets her own coffee cup down and slides her arms around my waist. The feel of her body against mine adds an instant layer of insanity to the volatile mix. We haven’t fucked for almost a week—everything we have is focused on getting through this. That’s a record for us. One I don’t think I can hold for much longer without breaking in some other catastrophic way. Especially with the added shit Elyse is throwing my way.

“I’m not going to let him disrupt my life. But I know we have an agreement, so you can come with me, if you want.”

“If I want?” I stress darkly. “You think you can fucking stop me?”

“No.”

And that’s the end of it. We head for the shower, and I torture myself with washing her body without fucking her. She bites her lip while returning the favor. By the time we dry off, we’re breathing like we’ve run a fucking marathon, and I contemplate giving in, letting the madness take me.

Her instructor sends me a puzzled look when I trail her into the class but wisely doesn’t comment on my presence. I drown him out when he starts a monologue about commercial leases and fix my stare on Elyse. She’s listening intently, her pen resting against her lower lip.

God, she’s beautiful.

Several days ago when all this shit started, I’d dared to question where we went from there. The answer is what it’s always been. I’m not leaving her side. Not for one fucking second. She’s finding her wings, and I’m holding the clippers that could sever them. A better man would’ve let her go.

I’m not, and never will be, a better man.

She may be ripping my insides out, but I don’t have a choice. I love her. I love everything she is, even when she’s driving me nuts.

She stops scribbling on her pad and looks over at me. Whatever she sees in my face makes her eyes widen. We stare at each other for fuck knows how long. Until a throat clears.

“Miss Gilbert? Are you with us?”

She flushes and breaks eye contact. I glare at the instructor. Fucking asshole.

“You’re going to get me thrown off the course if you keep glaring at my instructor,” she grumbles in my ear as I walk her out during her break.

“I live in hope,” I grunt.

“Quinn!”

“He tries to throw you out, I’ll eat him for fucking breakfast.”

She sighs, but I feel her relax beneath the hand I have on her waist. When we hit the corridor, she turns to me. “I need the ladies’ room. Do you mind getting me a soda?” She nods to the vending machine at the end of the hall.

The signs for the bathroom are at the opposite end. Too far. “No. I’ll wait for you to be done in the bathroom, and we’ll get your soda together. Better yet, I’ll have Lionel bring you a selection.”

She stops me from pulling my phone from my pocket. “Quinn, I don’t need you to get your driver to bring me a soda. And you can’t come with me to the bathroom. Relax, I’ll be fine.” She leans up and kisses me on the cheek before she hurries away.

My every instinct is to rush after her. But I lock my knees and stay put until she disappears into the ladies’ room. I jog to the vending machine and slip a ten-dollar bill into the slot. I press the button for a Dr Pepper, her favorite. Nothing happens. I stab the button again. And again. Give it a kick for good measure.

A student stops next to me. “Dude, that machine’s been broken like…forever. The one upstairs works okay, though. I think.”

I nod my thanks at the guy as I walk away. A glance down the corridor shows no sign of Elyse. Since I have no intention of leaving this floor, I start to pull my phone from my pocket to summon Lionel on a soda run only to freeze when two solidly built guys charge through the stairway door to my left. Another door at the end of the hallway bursts open, and a woman darts through. I don’t need X-ray vision to spot the gun bulging beneath her navy jacket.

“He’s here,” she hisses to the two guys as she reaches for her holster.

My world turns bright red, and I’m sprinting for the door Elyse went through before my brain completely kicks in.

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