Page 48 of Claimed By A Blue Eyed Menace

She sat up quickly, shooting me a glare. “You so damn—”

I cut her off by grabbing her ankles and yanking her to the edge of the bed. Parker gasped, her hands flying back to brace herself, her thighs parting slightly in surprise. But she didn’t close them. Didn’t even try. She was pouting, her lips pressed together like she wanted to argue, but I could see it in her eyes. The anticipation. The way her breath hitched. The way her body already knew what was coming.

“There’s no runnin’ from me,” I told her, my voice dark and full of promise. I slid my hands up the backs of her thighs, locking her legs in an unbreakable hold. My fingers dug into her soft flesh possessively. “Don’t ever do that shit again.” She swallowed, her breathing uneven.

And then I was gone, disappearing between her legs, dragging my tongue across that sweet, perfect pussy I missed so fucking much.

Parker

W e ’ d b a r e l y l e f tthe bed, only getting up when absolutely necessary—food, water, a quick shower before diving right back in. It was toxic. Insane. Intense. Shooter was like a drug I couldn’t quit, and even though my head was still fucked up from what I’d learned about Silas, my body was tuned into him like he was the only thing keeping me alive.

I lay sprawled across his chest, tracing slow circles on his inked skin while some romance movie I put on played in the background. I wasn’t even really watching it, just letting it fill the space while I listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Shooter’s hand rested on my hip, lazy but firm, like even in his half-asleep state, he had to keep me close. The possessiveness wasn’t just about control—I understood that now. It was about keeping me safe, keeping me his.

My eyes flicked up to his face, his sharp jawline relaxed for once, his lips slightly parted. He looked at peace, but I knew better. His mind was never still. “What’s this shit you got on?” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

I smiled a little. “It’s a classic romance.”

He huffed. “Ain’t no classic. It’s some corny ass shit.”

I gasped, sitting up slightly to look at him. “Corny?”

“Yes, corny,” he muttered, cracking one eye open. “Ain’t no way in hell this shit realistic. Dude met her two days ago, now he talkin’ ‘bout some I’d die without you?”

I smirked, shifting to straddle his waist, resting my hands on his chest. “Sounds familiar.”

He grunted. “Don’t play with me.”

I leaned down, brushing my lips over his. “What? I’m just saying, didn’t take you long to—”

Before I could finish, he gripped my ass and flipped us over so fast my head spun. I let out a breathless laugh as he pinned me to the bed, his full weight pressing me into the mattress. “Say it again,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, his blue eyes locked onto mine.

My heart pounded. “You fell fast, Mr. Mosley.”

His lips twitched like he wanted to deny it, but we both knew the truth. Instead of answering, he kissed me, deep and slow, his fingers tightening around my throat just enough to make my breath hitch. When he pulled back, there was something different in his gaze, something serious that made my stomach tighten.

“I gotta be gone for a couple days.” Just like that, the heat between us shifted.

I sat up, my fingers curling into the sheets. “For what?”

His jaw clenched, and he sat up too, running a hand down his face. “I gotta handle this shit.”

The USB. The recording. Silas’s betrayal. It all came back to me. Shooter might’ve been laid up with me for the last couple of days, putting me through the mattress and cuddling, but his mind had been working. Plotting. Calculating. Some shit was about to go down.

I exhaled slowly, searching his face. “Please be safe.”

His hand cupped the back of my head, pulling me in for a slow, lingering kiss that had my stomach flipping. When he pulled back, he brushed his thumb over my bottom lip. “I gotchu.”

I nodded, not pushing for details, because I didn’t want them. He shifted, standing up from the bed, and started pulling on his clothes. My chest felt tight watching get dressed, watching him slip back into the cold, ruthless version of himself that the world knew him as.

When he was done, he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Guards are back. Ain’t no more you bein' here alone.”

I sighed. “Shooter, I don’t—”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want,” he cut me off, his tone sharp.

I swallowed, my throat tight while I watched him, my mind spinning with everything that had happened, everything I had learned. This was my life now. And no matter how crazy, no matter how twisted… I trusted him. I had to.

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