Page 44 of Possession

I lose his touch in an instant. He shifts the towel around my body and shoves the edges into my hands. “Go straight to our room and get ready for dinner.”

He puts a hand to the small of my back, but the tips of his fingers graze the swell of my ass.

The man is unnerving. He’s made it clear everything he does is for show.

But every time he touches me, it feels very, very real.

11

ANNIHILATED BOUNDARIES

Brax

June is barely out of the dining room with the dirty plates when Logan Pritchett changes the subject to his newest prospect. “We need to have a conversation about Ricky.”

I stretch my arm out across the back of Landyn’s chair. So far, the night has been a bust as far as gaining information. Who knew you could actually have small talk over dinner with the president of a one-percenter organization.

I wondered when this was going to come up. I’ve been waiting for his lead to talk business. “What about him?”

Logan leans forward and rests his forearms on the table. “He’s a Jackals prospect. He was sent here to cut your fucking grass or pick up dog shit so we could exchange information without communicating daily. Now he’s living in your guest room and wearing Dockers. This was not part of the fucking plan.”

“We don’t have a dog,” Landyn pipes in like she’s done all night. Then, just to torment me, her hand lands high on my thigh and her big blue eyes shine bright. “I want a puppy. And not some alpha guard dog. I want a lap dog. But not too small. It can’t be breakable when we start having babies. And it has to be a girl. I’ll name her Cherry.”

I toss my napkin on the table in front of me and reach under Landyn’s chair to yank it closer to mine. Her eyes flare as she settles into the side of my chest. My wife has embraced her part tonight, even if she has laid it on thick. “We’ll talk about it later, but we’re never-fucking-ever naming anything Cherry.”

The skin between her brows crease as she turns to one of the most-wanted men in America. “What do you think of the name Cherry?”

Logan downs the last of his whiskey and the crystal lands on the table with a thud. “Sorry, lady. No fucking way would I be seen yelling for a dog named Cherry.”

My fake wife’s hand tightens around my thigh when she mutters, “I can already see naming our children will be an issue.”

This is not what I had in mind when I told her to act like she’s into me. The only time she really does that is when I touch her or kiss her. But that doesn’t feel like an act. It feels like a whole lot more.

My dick is red-hot proof.

Landyn looks like the wife of a politician, not one who was just sold to a drug lord having dinner with the president of a violent motorcycle club.

She might look the part, but I have no fucking idea what’s going to pop out of her mouth at any given moment. We need to have a talk about that when I get her back to our room.

She’s made small talk her bitch from the get go. If I touch her, she reciprocates. Sometimes she touches me first.

In fact, she touches me a lot.

So much, I’ve had to have a dozen silent conversations with my cock to calm him the fuck down. He hasn’t gotten the memo that my wife is fake and that she’s a part of the job.

Basically, she’s driving me mad. I find myself thinking of reasons to be in public with her, just so I can have a reason to touch her.

I’ve faked this life with precision for two years. Besides taking a bullet for Damian—that I did not mean to do—I haven’t made one misstep and have convinced everyone around me that I’m one hundred percent someone I’m not. I’ve worked my way to the top, and if all goes as planned, I’ll take down three organizations, not just one, while I get the revenge I’ve wanted for years.

So if the twenty-three-year-old daughter of a mobster is the thing that finally does me in, I might cut off the hand that I use to jack off with.

I’ll deserve the torture.

The first thing I’m going to do when we get back to our room is to educate the woman beside me to dial it down when people talk business.

Then I’ll lock myself in the bathroom to take a long shower. If I want to survive another day here, I need to jack off to be able to focus.

Logan breaks into my thoughts. “This doesn’t look good for you or the club. My brothers at the table are not happy. We made this arrangement with the prospect to transfer information, that’s it.”

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