Page 40 of Say I Do

“You’re going to pay for that,” I said flatly.

Harlow tilted his head at me and smirked. “For what, husband? All I did was remind you that you’re a taken man. You wouldn’t want anyone to take pictures of you with some random sluts, would you? That would be bad for your image, and your daddy might not like—”

My uninjured hand wrapped around his throat so quickly I didn’t even realize I held him in a tight chokehold at first. The scotch pumped through my veins as it stripped away any inhibition that might have held me back. Control and restraint were the cornerstones of my personality. So why did Harlow blow them away and turn me back into an animal?

I slammed him onto the ground and crowded his space. The world was fuzzy around the edges as the alcoholic haze refused to recede. My heart pounded in my chest as he wrapped his hands around my arm. I squeezed harder.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I whispered against his ear. “I’ve played nice, put on that stupid fucking mask since the day you first tested my patience. What? You want to see the real me, Harlow? Is that what you want?”

My teeth nipped the lobe of his ear before I traced my tongue down the curve of his throat. He raised up, pressing his cock against me.

“Slut,” I hissed. “Is that what you want? You’ve been after my cock since day one, right?”

Fuck, it was a mistake, but I didn’t give a damn. My hand throbbed with barely muted pain as I straightened up and yanked Harlow to his feet. He sucked in a breath and gasped before his hand went to his throat. Tomorrow, my handprint would be embedded in his flesh. I licked my lips at the thought. Wrapping my hand around his upper arm, I tightened my hold and dragged him toward the stairs.

Just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could he? I was perfectly content to sit by myself, get drunk, and sleep it off in my office.

I had no idea if I’d actually take one of those women to bed. When I’d seen Harlow, I feigned more interest than I felt just to rub it in his face. It wasn’t as if he was blameless. Everything he did was aimed at getting underneath my skin. Still, I wasn’t sure if I ever would have taken one of them upstairs with me.

We moved through the crowd weaving through the writhing bodies before we were spat out on the other side. I could have taken Harlow up to my office, but I wasn’t in the mood for that. I kicked open the bathroom door and shoved Harlow inside before I looked down at my bleeding hand. The glass was still embedded in my palm as crimson drops splashed on the black and white tiles below.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll bleed out eventually.”

I flexed my hand as I tilted my head, fixing him with a stare as I grinned. “You think a little blood worries me?” I laughed. “You have so much to learn about me.”

Harlow raised a brow. “I don’t need to learn shit. Like you said, this is just an arrangement.”

“That was before you kissed me like that,” I said as I closed the space between us. “Before you stabbed me and moaned for me. Now, I’m going to teach you exactly what you are to me.”

I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it aside. Harlow swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he stared at me. The smug look on his face shifted briefly to uncertainty before it returned. My grin widened.

“Was that fear on your face?”

“I’m not afraid of shit,” Harlow spat.

I barked out a laugh. “You’re afraid of everything. That’s your problem. You don’t think I see you? Afraid to be alone. Afraid to say the wrong thing. Afraid to not be wanted. You’re terrified of a lot of shit, Harlow. Just because death isn’t one of them doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wrong. You’re so fucking wrong.

I knew the kind of fear that dug deep into your soul and threatened to tear you apart. The kind you never allowed to show on your face but that you felt in your chest every day. Fear that bogged you down and made you silent instead of screaming. Terror that you would let down everyone you loved, and they would die because of you. No one knew better than me, the kind of fear that poisoned every step, every decision while you forced a smile onto your face and faked the confidence as if you knew what the fuck you were doing.

I grabbed Harlow’s jacket and ripped it down his shoulders. The fabric tore, and he grunted as he tried to shove away from me. He was fast, but I was stronger. And pissed off.

My hands worked on his pants as I yanked them down his slender thighs. Red panties dotted with little bows filled my vision. I would have laughed if all the air hadn’t been sucked out of my lungs. Seeing him in something so soft when I’d just watched him almost murder a woman was too insane of a juxtaposition to swallow.

I lifted Harlow, and his eyes widened as I deposited him onto the counter. I tossed his shoes to the side, ripped away with the lacy panties he loved to wear. When I lifted him again, he squirmed as if he’d only just remembered that he should be fighting me.

“Put me down.”

“No, you’re my husband, right? Do your husbandly duty and take my cock.”

“Don’t you fucking touch— ah!”

Harlow’s head tilted back as I pressed against his hole. It opened eagerly around the tip of my finger, and I shook my head at him. I wasn’t even inside, and he looked like he was ready to grind and ride my cock.

“I’ll touch whatever the fuck I want,” I growled. “You’re mine. Isn’t that what you said?”

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