Page 46 of Striker

Then he looks at me. The man looks at me, too. Pitiful. Begging.

I stand at the center of both their worlds. I hold someone's life in my hands; Owen is so dedicated to me he would kill for me with just a single word or a slight gesture; this man in front of me lives and dies at my discretion.

It's flattering, overwhelming, terrifying.

"Don't hurt him anymore. I accept his apology."

Owen releases the man's ear and the man's face instantly changes, from hurt and plaintive to dark and murderous. The look he gives me chills me to my bones. He gathers himself to his feet, carefully smoothing his bloodstained clothes.

"She may have forgiven you, but I haven't. Don't think you're getting off so easy, asshole," Owen snaps just before he unleashes a brutal punch that hits the man square in the face and knocks him on his ass. A kick follows that hits him in the chest and lays him out flat, and in the blink of an eye, Owen is atop the man, perched on his chest while he rains blows down upon him. Punch after punch that turns the man's shocked, snarling visage into something resembling poorly butchered meat.

Fear grips me. Murmurs surge through the crowd, someone screams. They may have been content to stand aside as these two men sorted out the offense against my honor, but will they stand there while my supposed boyfriend murders one of their own?

I have to stop this before he turns this dance into a crime scene.

When I grip his shoulder and try to pull him off, he just shrugs me aside and throws a punch that makes the man shriek like an animal. Owen is unleashed and he won't be satisfied until his vengeance is complete.

How do I stop him?

What can I do that can overcome his ferocity?

An idea grips me. There is something I can do, something that can cut through his animalistic fury.

But once I go this way, will either of us be able to stop?

I don't know.

I don't care, either; I have to do it.

Stepping forward, I put my hands on Owen's face, turn his head, and kiss him on the lips with everything I have; all the passion, all the intensity, all the desire that I've carried for all these years, goes into that kiss.

He stops instantly. Grabs me, pulls me closer to him, and consumes me with equal fervor.

Then he stands.

With his hands on my hips, he guides me backward a few steps and we leave the man on the ground behind us, forgotten entirely as we explore each other's lips. Owen's hands roam my body, down my back, to my ass, which he squeezes. I grind my hips into him and moan.

I want this. Want it, and need it.

I pull away from him and lick my lips, a slow, seductive movement that draws him in. He groans and moves his mouth to my neck, tasting me, devouring me. I tilt my head back so he has better access. Then he sucks and nibbles and I moan, my head falling back as I give myself to him.

The man on the ground is forgotten.

The crowd is forgotten.

He kisses my neck again, nibbles my ear, and then moves lower and kisses my shoulders. His hands move, sliding down my sides and over my hips until he takes a hold of my ass, his hips pushing forward, his erection pressing against me.

And then I remember where we are.

The noise of the crowd comes crashing back and I pull away from him, quickly, and turn to look at the onlookers. They're all watching us, open-mouthed, shocked. Some cheer us on, some are shaking their heads in shameful surprise, some are just speechless.

Owen grabs me by the hand. "Let's get out of here."

I nod.

Without either of us needing to say it, we slip into the night and disappear toward our suite in the villa. We have more important things to do. Something we’ve wanted for years, yet denied ourselves. My heart thunders in my chest; I'm about to bring my fantasy to life and take the man of my dreams into my bed.

Chapter Sixteen

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