Page 58 of Renard's Deliverance

“Well? What are you going to, Principal Dean?” she challenged.

It was a school-girl scene with Opal dressed in a short, pleated skirt and a white top that she’d tied at the waist. She was wearing a pair of high-heeled black shoes and her hair had been secured into two ponytails.

She looked fucking hot and his dick had gotten hard as soon as he’d caught sight of her.

And it hadn’t calmed down since.

Suddenly, the asshole grabbed her arm and turned her toward the desk. It didn’t look like he did it harshly, but Renard still felt a burst of anger. He quickened his pace as she cried out.

What. The. Fuck.

Suddenly, he was seeing red.

That bastard hurt her!

“Renard! Stop!” Saxon yelled, getting between him and the soon-to-be-dead-asshole. “Leo, get over here! Get Dean to my office. Renard, you have to calm down. Fuck, Opal. Are you hurt?”

Was she hurt? She better fucking not be.

Renard shrugged off Saxon’s hold as one of the monitors led Dean away. He rushed toward Opal who was leaning on the desk, her face pale and breathing shallow.

“What did he do? Where does it hurt? I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“No one is killing anyone,” Saxon said calmly. “Opal, what happened?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

Renard cupped her face between his hands, gently tilting her head back. He was careful to only touch her face, unsure of what was hurting.

He leaned in close to her. “You can lie to Saxon, to the Malones, to the whole fucking world if you want, but you do not lie to me. What. Hurts?”

She stared at him, her lips a deep, dark red. Damn, he wanted to kiss her mouth.

You can’t.

She isn’t for you. Remember? You have plans.

Only his plans didn’t seem so important when he was around this fucking gorgeous, spiky, amazing woman.

“Well?” he demanded.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to see that dick wasn’t the right match for you and I don’t know why no one stopped this. Now, where are you hurting? And do not lie.”

“It’s my back,” she told him in a pained voice.

That didn’t make much sense. He’d grabbed her arm to move her, but it hadn’t been a sharp movement. How had it hurt her back?

“He hurt your back? Do you need the doc?”

“He didn’t hurt it,” she told him. “I mean he hurt it, but I hurt it last night. He simply upped the pain level by grabbing me.”

“And did you tell him about that?” Saxon asked in a serious voice.

“That would be a no, rubber-ducky,” she replied.

Right.

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