Page 59 of His Game (His Obsession 1)

"You shouldn't be out here," I told her. "It might not be safe."

"Neither should you," she retorted, picking her way carefully over to me. "How's your shoulder?"

I'd forgotten about it, honestly. Probably the adrenaline still rushing through my bloodstream. "It's fine." I turned to look at her. "Are you hurt?" I swear to god, if that asshole had left so much as a tiny bruise on her...

She shook her head. "No. Not really."

My fingers tightened around my gun. "Not really?"

"I'm fine. I just need a drink."

I watched her as she wiped the blood from her mouth with a napkin she'd brought outside and fixed her dress. "Why did he think he could fuck you, Nicole?"

Slowly, she looked up at me. "That's not my name," she whispered.

"It is while you're here. Now answer my fucking question."

Her mouth, now cleaned of blood, twisted in anger and disgust. Without a word, she turned to go back inside.

Shoving my gun into its holster, I grabbed her arm before she could get far. "Answer my fucking question."

"Fuck you." She practically spit the words at me.

"Were you flirting with him?" Just the thought of her smiling at another man made me want to tear apart every room in this house, piece by piece.

"Let go of my arm."

"Tell me what happened," I insisted.

"Why?" she cried. Her eyes blazed with anger behind the fake blue. "So you can blame me because that dude can't keep his dick in his pants? Fuck that."

I yanked her toward me, and she stumbled, landing hard against my chest. My own dick was swollen and hard. I needed to be inside of her. To claim her. Make her remember just who the fuck she belonged to. The urge was overwhelming, even though I knew it made no sense. Wrapping my fist in her hair, I pulled her head back until she had to look down her nose to see me. "You are mine, Veda," I told her quietly, using her proper name. "It would do you well to remember that."

She glared up at me. "So someone in your family attacks me when I'm just trying to pee, and it's my fault? Is the dress you picked out for me too slutty? Is that it? Maybe the heels you insisted I wear are too high? Hair too blonde? Too much makeup?"

My anger was misplaced. I knew this. But I couldn't contain it. I was angry at my cousin, not at her. And I was angry at myself for giving a shit.

Madness rose inside of me, screaming for release. And since it would be hours until I was home to take it out on my punching bag, that left the woman standing in front of me. My woman. With my hand still tangled in her hair, I marched her over to the side of the building where we'd be hidden from prying eyes. She didn't whine. She didn't cry out. She just stomped on over there. Her body tense. Ready to give back as good as she got.

Around us, the night was dark, with only the slightest bit of light coming from a window in the kitchen, a structure that had been added on as a separate piece to the side of the house, and the occasional headlights from a passing car. With the property being on a slight rise from the road and surrounded by trees, no one would see us here. But Enzo would be able to hear me if I needed him.

I leaned into her, pressing her back against the siding with the weight of my body. "Do you feel what you do to me, vita?" My life. The word slipped out with barely any notice from me. "Do you feel how crazy you make me?" With my hand in her hair to hold her still, she could only press her palm against my chest in a feeble effort to keep me off of her, the bloody napkin still fisted in the other, her eyes staring at nothing over my shoulder. A roar of laughter came from inside the restaurant. But it was muffled by the thick, stone walls, and not loud enough to hide her sharp breaths.

"I did nothing wrong," she bit out.

"Did he kiss you? Hmm?" I nipped at her lips as she tried to tighten them against me. "Did he stick his tongue down your fucking throat?" I licked the seam of her mouth.

She wouldn't look at me. Wouldn't open for me.

"Did you fucking like it?"

Her eyes shot to mine, and I saw a fury there that rivaled my own. I wanted to rip out those contacts and watch the storm brew, and barely contained myself from doing it.

Instead, I tightened my grip on her hair until she winced. "Tell me what he fucking did to you."

"It doesn't matter."

Touching my forehead to hers, I took a deep breath. "But it does, amore. It does fucking matter."

"Not to me," she said.

"No?" I asked her.

She tried to shake her head, but my grip was too tight. So she repeated, "No."

With a growl, I lowered my head and caught her mouth with mine, biting her lips until she succumbed to my kiss. Opening her hand, she let the napkin fall to the ground to grip my shirt with both hands, and I felt the struggle inside of her. "Kiss me, vita," I begged against her mouth. "Kiss me, amore."

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