Page 71 of Anger

“Explain.”

She glances at my chest, not bothering to look up and meet my eyes again. “Aren’t you the bossy one? Always with the demands.”

I grab her chin and tilt her head up, forcing her eyes to mine. “I’m not playing with you right now. Why won’t you have a job? Is Granger firing you?”

A thought comes to me … The way the asshole she calls ameans to an endwas glaring at me as soon as I appeared upstairs.

Is it my fault she’s being forced out?

Have I ruined the only person and place that’s mine?

I’ve kept her a secret from the guys because I craved something that was mine alone. But she’s not a secret from Granger, and the consequences for the games I’ve been playing may have landed squarely on her head.

My fingers tighten on her chin. “Answer me.”

A small amount of fight returns to her when she tugs her chin from my fingers and glares up at me defiantly.

There she is…

There’s the woman who can withstand the chaos that follows me.

“I’m not being fired. I’m choosing to leave,” she admits as she shoves at my chest to push me away.

I don’t move.

Instead, I press against her tighter.

My lips lower to her ear, softly brushing the rim.

“What if I won’t let you leave?”

She shivers at my voice, her body stuck in place, her hair brushing my face.

Turning my head slightly, I breathe in her scent. Something floral maybe, with the faint aroma of her sweat from dancing.

The scent seduces me, my body hard against hers. I can’t help myself.

Reaching down, I grip her hip, staking a claim I don’t have the right to make.

“Things with Granger aren’t working out. And when I cut him off, he’ll fire me. So rather than going through that bullshit, I’m choosing to leave. You can’t stop me.”

“We’ll see about that,” I warn.

I’m not losing her.

Not so soon after finding her.

Our cheeks brush when she turns her head. Blue is a fucking tease when the corner of her mouth touches mine. “There’s nothing you can do.”

I could kill Granger.

It wouldn’t be the first time somebody died because of me.

It wouldn’t be the first dousing of blood on my hands.

What are you going to do about it, Damon?

Grow some balls, son.

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