Page 76 of Tempting Little Thief

His eyes sharpen, and terrifyingly slow, he stands, his grip on me unrelenting. “So he is in here.”

“No,” I hiss.

He’s behind the glass.

He cocks his head a little, studying me, and after several silent seconds, rounds the counter.

I should pull away.

I should issue another warning and make it count, but something deep beneath my bones won’t let me. Now I’m playing the part of that gazelle, waiting for the rogue lion with bated breath.

I can accept his touch, his kiss, but I’ve never allowed anyone in this room close enough to try.

Bastian isn’t interested in my permission but is prepared to take what he wants, totakefrom me. The girl everyone gives to.

My stomach erupts with a tingling sensation. I have no business feeling at the thought, yet there it is, growing, spreading through my every vein, and he sees it.

He’s in front of me now, and this time, his arm does hook around my body, and in one swift tug, I’m flush against him, the zippers of his leather jacket scraping along my arms.

His knuckles come up, pressing at the underside of my jaw, but then he holds.

Freezes.

He waits.

Gaze bold and sure, he places a bet in his mind, one I hear.

One I am going to win, as stupid as the move may prove to be.

I lift my mouth to his, feathering it across his bottom lip, and the corner of his mouth hitches the slightest bit as he applies pressure, sealing our kiss airtight, but he doesn’t take it further.

Doesn’t force my lips to part or choke me with his tongue like I expected.

Like I hoped?

Slowly, Bastian pulls back, eyes on mine, satisfaction swimming in his own, but when he blinks, it’s gone, nothing but a harsh, wicked glare in its place.

And then they flick over my shoulder, his chin lowering at the same time as he stares into the mirrored glass at my back, the glass the others are standing behind. Watching. Waiting.

Rough, long fingers thread into my hair, tugging harshly but not yanking, just a solid, firm grip that teases and tingles the scalp. Tipping my head, he leans forward, the warmth of his breath fanning along my neck as he moves toward my ear.

He holds there, eyes strong on the mirror, grip tight and possessive, and then he whispers, for only me to hear, “Behave, Little Thief.”

He pulls back, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he tugs mine down with his thumb, eyes narrowing. “Do not test me.”

All at once, I’m released. He steps back to adjust his jacket and saunters toward the door, patting Carson on the shoulder on his way as if he owns the fucking place.

Carson laughs at something he says and bows.

Bastian’s brows betray him, lifting, but only by a fraction at the show of respect, of superiority, and then he walks out the door.

It’s not until I realize the world keeps spinning, as if he were never here, that I snap out of my shock and press the button on the bottom of the bar so someone knows to swap me out.

The second I get to the side door, it opens, and Valley slides in as I move out.

Bronx, Delta, and the rest of our tight-knit group are waiting by the exit and say not a word as we rush into the hall, scurry down it and into the Greyson Suite as I tug my dress back over my head, my skin itching to be covered once more.

I no sooner slap my palm on the side door to lock us inside the private space when Dom starts speaking into his wired microphone.

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