Page 20 of Savage Obsession
With my good hand, I bump him and smile. “Never fucking better. Thanks for having my back.”
“Always will, without question.”
I nod and get out of the car, then lean in, resting my arms on the roof. “Tell Jordyn I didn’t drive tonight, yeah? Maybe I’ll win some points back.”
Cash snorts. “You really want to win points with her? Come over next weekend for a family pool party. She’s making cherry mojitos.” He makes a face when he says the last part, and I can’t help but laugh. None of us understands her love for them, but we’re all straight whiskey drinkers. We’ll leave the sweet stuff for Jordyn.
“I’ll bring chips.” I smirk and wink at him. “Those, I can’t ruin.”
We both laugh, and I slam the door shut, then walk in through the lobby doors.
One of the security guards looks at me in surprise. I rarely come through here, but this is the fourth night in a row I have. I keep telling myself it’s because I’ve been taking a car service to and from work ever since Jordyn threatened my life, so it makessense to come through here. Why would I go through the garage, even though it’s simple enough to scan my key card and have the driver drop me off in front of my elevator? The lobby is easier for them. That’s all.
I tip my head at the men and stride toward the elevator just as the doors are closing. Without thinking, I reach out to stop them, and when they slide open, every ounce of air is sucked out of me. My entire body lights up with awareness. Strawberries. The entire space smells like the sweet red fruit. The same shade of red as her lips.
My gaze lands on the lush woman before me, zeroing in on the ruby-red color painted all over her plush, pillowy mouth. Fuck me. What I wouldn’t do to have that lipstick smeared all over my dick.
Her tits are pushed up, and it takes every bit of strength I have not to stare at them like a sprung fucking dog, because Jesus, they’re perfect.
I step into the elevator, tiny needles of electricity tingling at the back of my neck, going all the way down my spine to my cock. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself down, but it doesn’t work.
“Um, hi,” she says in that sweet little voice that sounds like angels singing from the heavens.
Where’d the innocent woman I met the other day go? Because the woman I’m staring at is a fucking vixen. She has the same soft gaze I remember, only it’s enhanced with lashes and something shimmery around her eyes that makes them look smoky and seductive. Those cute French braids are replaced with waves that tumble over her shoulders, covering the tiny straps of her tank top. All it would take is the flick of my wrist to rip one of those worthless scraps of fabric apart so I could get a glimpse of whatever black bra she’s wearing.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Itisyou.”
We stare at each other as the elevator starts to move, her cheeks flushing.
“Did you have a good time out tonight?” she asks as she studies my face with curiosity.
“I wasn’tout.” Even if I had been, there’s a more important question I need to know. “How long have you worked there?” And how have I never noticed?
The elevator comes to a stop on her floor, but when the doors open, she doesn’t move a single muscle. “Three years.”
“Fuck.” I take her in from the top of her pretty head all the way down to her flip-flopped feet. I frown when I see the shape they’re in. Perfect pink-painted toenails, but it’s obvious she’s in pain as she shifts her weight slightly. “Your feet are red.”
She drops her gaze to where I’m looking and shrugs. “Oh, uh, I’m fine. I had a long day. They’ll be good as new in the morning.” She flashes me a forced smile that makes me want to put her over my knee. Before I get the chance to scold her and tell her she doesn’t always have to smile when she doesn’t feel like it, she gasps and reaches for my hand.
“Oh my God, you’re bleeding!”
The next thing I know, Quinn starts dragging me into her apartment.
And I can’t find the strength within me to stop her.
CHAPTER 8
Quinn
WHATEVER YOU SAY, DADDY
Before I even realize whatI’m doing, my feet are moving. I grab his wrist and pull his hand up to inspect his bloodied knuckles. They look painful. Like this isn’t the first time they’ve been split. Rough callouses surround the new cuts.
They say never bring a man home after ten o’clock unless you plan on sleeping with him, and after the long day I’ve had, I really need to walk away. I need to close my apartment door and let this grown man go to whatever floor he lives on and handle his own wounds. But I can’t. I’m not built that way. He’s hurt, and I can’t leave him.
As I tug on his darkly inked wrist, his gaze bores into me for a beat before he gives in and follows me. He pauses and locks the deadbolt, leaving us alone in the dim space, which feels so much smaller with him in it. The man could swallow up a room with his commanding presence.
“Did you kill someone tonight?” I ask quietly, leading him into my tiny bathroom.
