A Million Different Ways to Lose You (Horn Duet 2)

“Get leash for that one.” Yuri’s accent was more pronounced, his grammar broken. “She’s wild…not broken yet.”

Sebastian stopped walking. For a moment I thought he would turn and go back for Emilia, but I was wrong. After a beat he exhaled harshly and kept walking, dragging me along with him.

Outside the club, the bouncer watched us curiously as Sebastian shoved me into the back seat of the Mercedes. I glared at him for the shove, though his attention remained ahead so little good that did. The tires screamed as Bear hit the gas, driving us out of there quickly.

“Did I not tell you to stay THE FUCK away from her?!” His voice escalated with every spoken word. I jumped in my seat, my nerves hypersensitive. And still, he wouldn’t look at me. The dark did nothing to obscure the vein throbbing at his temple, the tight edges of his mouth. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

Any other time I would have apologized––he already had too much on his plate to contend with––however, this was a matter of life and death. I couldn’t say for certain that Yuri wouldn’t kill Emilia. Was he capable of it? My mind didn’t want to go there.

“He beats her. She called me in hysterics again. And then you walk in and let him intimidate her into staying?”

His head swiveled in my direction, his wide, fiery eyes locked onto mine. “What would you have me do? Start a war with the Russian mob for a woman that would most likely crawl back to him by morning?”

He had a point there. I hated it when he made sense. Last time I’d tried prying her away from Yuri, after he’d given her a broken rib, she ended up giving me the cold shoulder for weeks. I exhaled in frustration. Sebastian’s glare softened. We were both silent for the rest of the ride.

Bear pulled up to our building and dropped us off. Not a word was said as we made our way up to the apartment, the space between us loaded with tension, charged with conflict. I could see by his eyes how tired he was, that his leg was bothering him––and it made me feel terrible. I reached out, but he stepped away. For the first time in our relationship, he wouldn’t let me touch him.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Once we were inside, he headed straight for the shower, his strides swallowing up ground. He avoided looking at me more than was absolutely necessary. I was in our bedroom, undressing, when he returned wearing a towel hanging low around his hips. He finger combed his wet hair back and watched me peel the jeans off my legs with a mixture of irritation and pure animal attraction.

My greedy eyes, drawn by natural instinct to his quintessential masculine beauty, moved over those spectacular traps, down his broad chest, and over a six pack that rippled every time he moved. Dark blonde hair peeked out over the top of his low slug towel, now tenting as a result of where his apparent thoughts were headed….and taking me right along with him. The ache between my legs was increasing by the second.

It made me furious. I had absolutely no dominion over myself when it came to him. No matter how many times I tried to harness this heat living between us, to contain it, it bucked every attempt to be managed. Although I should’ve know better, since it had always been that way between us. This undeniable imperative to come together hadn’t diminished even a small fraction since the day we met, reducing my self-control to a punch line, a bad joke. I always considered myself strong, determined, in charge of my own fate. But I hadn’t been since the day he found me on my knees. Come to think of it, that seemed about right. Because I was a willing slave to him.

When my eyes climbed back up to his face, his eyes were heavy lidded, full of lust…and anger. There was no ignoring that. He moved fast––with impunity.

Grabbing my wrists in a firm grip, he pushed me down on the bed and fell on top of me, all two hundred and fifteen pounds of him. He made no attempt to break his fall. The air rushed out of my lungs. My wrists were pinned above my head. He held on with one hand while the other gently skated over my throat, onto my throbbing pulse. His erection pressed hard and hot in between my thighs, stoking my arousal. It didn’t take much for the heat to build into a raging fire.

He nudged me twice and a low moan escaped my lips. That’s all it took for the electric sensation to move through me, a branch of pure pleasure lighting up the farthest reaches of my body. He knew me, knew my body like a treasure map he’d studied over and over. He knew my weaknesses better than I did. That thought made me pause. Spurned on by my reaction, he ground himself against me, encouraging this frenzy, this fervent, insatiable need I had for his touch…until I stopped thinking altogether.