Page 24 of Skin
Fuck, one of them wasme. I went there looking for something. I just didn’t know it was her.
But I didn’t want her because she was there. I didn’tneedher because she wasthere. I needed her because she didn’t belong there.
And that’s what I was looking for. That’s what I needed to love.
Her. She didn’t belongtherebecause she belonged withme.
How do I know? Because now that she’s with me, I don’t feel like I’m looking for anything. For the first time in my life, I am not searching.
All I care about is making her feel happy. Cracking her code. Discoveringallof her secrets. Owning all of her skin.
She wasn’t for sale.
Her freedom is etched on my heart.
Her name is painted in my mind.
Sweet Avery.
After finishing our drinks, the club is really beginning to get to the place where it fulfills the reputation that precedes it. And even though there are masks, I know some of the men here. It’s the powerful men, the rich men, the men who are suspicious of women and only give a fuck about their money. Those are the men who come here topayfor what they want.
I can see their eyes in their masks. The sick bastards who don’t have anywhere else to be at the holidays. They, too, need what I found.
Maybe they want to dominate. Maybe they want to be dominated. I don’t judge, and it doesn’t fucking matter. All that matters is me and her now. She is all I was looking for, and now I have her.
“I’m going to get the car to come around,” I say, putting a kiss atop her head. She smiles up at me, her eyes wide and clear and confident. I can see her curves behind the table where we’re sitting, and her hair is falling around her face in luscious waves. I’ve already tugged on that long brown hair, and there’s nothing sweeter in the world than how her pussy tenses up when she feels it.
I begin to get up. My cock strains when I look back at her a final time, in my club.
As I start to weave through the crowd, I spot someone I know. I can’t place him, though. His eyes make my insides lurch, but I don’t let it show. I don’t know where he’s from. But I know I know him.
I push my way through the crowd, the drunken revelers beginning to dance and sway with each other, beautiful, anonymous bodies in the candlelit ballroom.
But I keep my eyes on him. My heart tenses up, slamming around inside my body.
He crushes through the crowd, finding an opening, and makes his way over to my Avery.
I won’t make a scene. I won’t fucking jeopardize my position here, because I want to bring Avery here again and again. But if this fucker knowsanything, he will know to stay the fuck away from her.
I trail him with my eyes, and then my feet begin to move. Even over the thumping bass and the laughter of the party, I can feel my heart slamming inside my ears and my feet pounding on the floor. I’m not running, but my body feels like it ismovingso fast as I shoulder my way past the final group, getting to our table.
My eyes narrow onto him. His hand is around her wrist. She is pulling it away from him.
Her eyes snap to mine. He looks over his shoulder and sees me standing behind him.
It’s the fucker from the massage parlor. The one who tried to buy Avery. The one who thought he wasentitledto her.
I clench my fists out of habit. I steady my jaw out of necessity.
“Get your hands off of her.”
He must think I’ve lost my fucking mind. The way he lets go of her delicate wrist speaks the words he cannot find. His eyes meet mine and he puts his hands up like he’s a child caught sneaking a cookie out of the cookie jar.
“I know you,” he says, stepping toward me, putting his index finger into my chest. He puffs himself up.
Prick.
“You should know me,” I say, “because I am the man you will have to get past if you want to touch her again. And that is not. Going. To. Happen.”
