King moves in even closer, thinking that he’s about to get his dick wet. “And what’s that?” he rumbles, his voice deep and thick with desire.
I bite down on my lip and it’s as though Carver already knows what I’m about to say before the words even come out of my mouth. “That all players do their part.”
Cruz groans, knowing the chances of Carver giving in are slim. King straightens behind me, his fingers tightening on my skin as all eyes fall toward Carver.
I watch as he thinks it over, and the fact that he hasn’t already run for the hills speaks volumes. His gaze sweeps over my body, and the desire pulsing out of his stormy eyes is nearly enough to have me sprinting across the room and throwing myself into his arms.
He remains still, and the seconds pass like a lead weight pressing down over my shoulders.
It’s intense. It’s raw. It’s Carver.
His eyes slowly drift back up to mine, and as they finally meet, his tongue rolls along his bottom lip and I can practically see the wild, racing thoughts swarming his mind. “What’s it going to be?” I whisper, unsure why I suddenly feel so damn nervous.
Carver’s gaze flicks around the room, meeting his friends’ intense stares before finally coming back to mine. He pushes off the wall and takes a cautious step into the room. “I’ll make a deal with you,” he tells me, making my back stiffen and my heart begin to race. “I’ll—”
A loud bang sounds through the lower portion of the house, followed by a terrified grunt that has each of us quickly glancing round and within a heartbeat, King, Cruz, and Carver have forgotten about what the fuck was about to go down in this room and are sprinting through the house as Grayson all but throws me off him and grabs his sweatpants.
My heart races for an all-new reason, and before Grayson can throw the bullshit ‘stay hidden’ instructions my way, I’m racing after him with my tank and sweatpants in my hands.
CHAPTER 8
My feet pound against the hard, marble tiles of Carver’s home as I go screeching into the kitchen with my tank pulled halfway over my head and my ass hanging out of my sweats, desperately attempting to yank them into place.
This isn’t exactly how I planned the afternoon to go, but what can I say? I love a bit of adrenaline, and if I get it by finding some asshole sneaking around Carver’s home or by getting off on a monster cock, it’s all the same to me. As long as I reach that high, I’m one hell of a happy camper.
I come barreling through the kitchen only to find a wall of muscle standing before me. I hit the brakes and catch myself on Carver’s arm as it shoots out to keep me from falling forward.
I groan under my breath, but don’t miss how King glances my way, scanning his blue eyes over my face before dropping them down my body and making sure that I’m alright. After all, running through the house at a million miles per hour barely two weeks after getting shot isn’t something that comes highly recommended.
King focuses back on the man who has somehow made his way out of Carver’s holding cell beneath his father’s old office.
Preston Scardoni.
The pain in my ass that just never seems to go away. Until now.
The fucker had conspired against my parents and for the past eighteen years has conspired against me. I’m done. For a long time, I didn’t even know that I was running from a threat. I was just running because what the fuck else did I have to do to occupy my time? Dynasty was always watching me from the sidelines, always keeping me safe in their twisted, screwed up way. But I’m not running anymore.
Preston Scardoni is the reason for so much pain and devastation over the past few months since I arrived in Ravenwood Heights. He and his son went above and beyond to make my life a living hell. I’ve had assassins drop in to wish me a happy birthday, I’ve had Jacob weasel his way into my best friend’s life and break her heart, and a second attack ... well, almost a second attack. We sprung that motherfucker before he got the chance to end his call. Jacob lost his life that night and ever since this bastard has been held in Carver’s underground cell.
There’s also the question of the attack my bitch of a mother orchestrated against me. A man came onto my property and drowned me in my own damn pool, and my gut tells me that she didn’t do it alone. Someone is responsible for giving her access to the gate, which means that same someone knew that she was alive and didn’t mutter a single word. My gut tells me that person was Preston Scardoni, though I’m starting to realize that things are never so black and white in this world. There’s a whole grey section that’s screwed me over every step of the way.