Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“What?” My voice cracks, and for the first time, real consequences for my actions loom. I gulp hard.
No.
“Cavin. You can’t do that.”
He leans in closer, and I press back against the wall, but there’s nowhere to go. “You’re my fiancée. That means you don’t go wandering into places like this without telling me. Without protection. Without a damn clue what you’re walking into.”
“I have protection,” I fire back. “Your goons—”
“My men,” he corrects sharply. “Who are supposed to keep you safe. And instead, you gave them the slip and walked straight into the one place where you should never have set foot.”
“It’s just a club—”
“It is not just a club.” His eyes burn into mine, dark and furious and something else. Something that makes my stomach flip. “And you’re not just some girl anymore. You’re mine, Erin. Mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. And I will drag you out of any place I see fit if it means keeping you from harm.”
“I wasn’t in any harm,” I say, but my voice is small. Uncertain.
“You’re in my club,” he repeats, each word deliberate. “People don’t know you yet. Men come here to drink and fuck and forget the world exists. Rules don’t apply here the way they do out there. Women like you, good girls, innocent girls, don’t belong here unless they’re being paid or they’re wearing a collar.”
My breath catches on good girl.
Wait. He thinks I’m good and innocent? Why do I… sort of like that?
“So yeah,” he continues, his voice dropping to something dark and possessive, something that makes heat pool low in my belly. “I stormed in there because seeing you sitting at a table in the middle of my territory, looking like that, with that fuckin’ purple band around your arm… Do you know what that means, Erin? Do you have any idea?”
“I didn’t—” I close my mouth because I’m starting to realize that, no, I don’t.
“It means you’re available,” he snarls, like the word’s filthy in his mouth. “It means you’re a free submissive looking for a Dom. Looking to be claimed.”
The blood drains from my face.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“Of course you didn’t fuckin’ know!” His hand slams against the wall beside my head, making me flinch. “Because you haven’t been vetted. You haven’t been trained. You walked into a den of wolves wearing a sign that says ‘Eat me,’ and you didn’t even realize it.”
He’s shaking, actually shaking with barely controlled rage.
“Do you know what happened to the last person who broke into my club without permission?”
I shake my head, genuinely scared of the man looming over me.
His hand moves to my jaw, tilting my face up to his, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“I beat the fuckin’ shite out of them,” he says. “And I threw them out. Physically. Obviously, I won’t do that to you—you’re a woman. And my fiancée.”
Now he’s saying it too.
His face is only a breath from mine now, his mouth close to my ear.
“But there are other ways I’ll have to punish you, Erin.”
“You can’t—” My voice shakes. “You won’t—”
“I can and will.” His thumb brushes over my bottom lip, and I hate how my body responds. How it melts. “Because seeing you in there with that band on your arm, looking like every man’s wet dream, sitting in my club like you’re up for auction—”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, and the raw possession in his eyes steals my breath.
“Makes me want to burn this fuckin’ place down. Makes me want to drag you into one of those rooms and remind you exactly who you belong to. Makes me want to mark every inch of your skin so no man in this city ever forgets that you’re mine.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. I remember the spanking he gave me before our first dinner, the way he effortlessly dominated me and left me furious and so fucking wet I couldn’t think straight.
“Now,” he says softly, dangerously, his hand sliding down to wrap around my throat—not squeezing, just holding, a promise of what he could do. “Are you going to walk into that room with me? Or do I need to feckin’ carry you?”
His eyes dare me to refuse.
And god help me, I don’t know if I’m more terrified or aroused by the darkness I see there.
“The room, Erin,” he growls. “Choose. Now.”
I try to twist in his grip, but it’s useless. He doesn’t answer. He just lifts me, one arm under my knees, the other around my back. I’m pressed against his chest, and I can feel his heartbeat—steady, controlled—while mine’s racing.
He smells good. It’s a crazy thought to have right now.
“Put me down!”
“No.”
Part of me wonders what he could get away with in here. He’s not only the owner of the club, he’s Cavin McCarthy. He walks on fucking water. He plays by a code of rules that nobody wants to know.