Page 147 of The Broken Note

“And they won’t get a chance to.” Dutch frowns as he rolls his hips. His eyes burn like hellfire. “If anyone hurts you, they won’t live long enough to regret it.”

“Dutch.” It’s supposed to be a scolding, but it sounds more like a groan. I can’t help it. His hands are skating over my aching skin, branding me like pure fire.

My heart is beating so loudly that I can’t even hear the music in my head. My pulse drowns it out too.

It’s all percussions.

All ancient, animalistic war drums.

While I’m unraveling, Dutch is in complete control. I can feel his confidence when he moves my body over his lap, scrubbing me against his jeans.

“You’re lucky it’s just Martina. I considered hiring a security team.”

My eyes widen. “Don’t you—”

His tongue plunges into my mouth chasing away the rest of my words. A gasp tears out of me and I find myself clinging to his hair, grappling for some sense of control in the rapidly chaotic kiss.

Dutch pushes me back. His voice is a low and tortured sound. “Off.”

He’s pure beast. Pure caveman. No time for cohesive sentences even as he instructs me to undress.

“What are you doing?” I pant. “We’re right in front of my apartment.”

He rolls my tights down my legs and I arch my back as he growls, “The windows are tinted.”

It’s a good point and he makes an even better one when his hands descend on me. Fondling. Caressing. Guiding. I erupt into a flame of heat and need, wrapping myself around him as we exchange what little oxygen is left in the car.

Suddenly, I hear a knock on the window.

Both our heads launch up.

My hair is in my face and my eyes are dazed. Plus the windows are so fogged up that I can’t see anything.

And then the fog clears.

I meet a pair of familiar brown eyes.

“Oh my gosh!” I screech.

The thick, pulsing desire in my body wipes out in an instant. Shame and embarrassment floods me next. I try to climb out of Dutch’s lap, but we’re pressed so tightly together that I almost knee him in the jaw.

My elbow hits the steering wheel. The car horn blows loudly, announcing to everyone that we’ve been caught—both literally and figuratively—with our pants down.

Can someone just shoot me and put me out of my misery already?

“Who is it?” Dutch asks, his voice laced with a threat as he zips up. “How do you know this guy?”

I button my shirt in a panic and pull my skirt back on with shaky hands. “He’s my brother.”

* * *

Jinx: Royal Brothers Get Lonely Too

This royal family sure do love to pick the hardest, most thorny roads to love. But when a Snare King can have any woman he wants in his bed, it makes sense that he would choose the woman he can’t have.

You want names, but I don’t kiss and tell. Not without evidence. Whispers are all I have for now.

Pics of the Snare King capturing his prey for dinner or it didn’t happen.

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