As our tongues dance and sizzle together, I remember how he loomed over my bed in his underwear, his body heaving, muscled, every inch of him looking as if he was carved from marble.
He growls, muffled, and I let out another shivering moan.
My body is alight with a thousand sensations, but nothing is more potent than the throbbing of my sex, my panties getting soaked as my body screams at me to mount him right here, to ride him until he’s exploded his seed inside of me.
The bell above the door interrupts us.
He leans back, smirking.
“We’re going to continue this,” he growls, kissing the edge of my mouth. “But first—the snails.”
He stands up and walks to the staircase railing, laying his fists against it.
“You’re not the waiter,” he says, his voice suddenly dead-calm.
“I’m here for Fiona,” the man says, and the world suddenly drops out beneath me.
I recognize that gravelly voice.
I recognize the arrogance shimmering in each word he speaks.
It’s the voice I heard under the bleachers, the voice that belongs to his taunting leer.
“And I’m not leaving without her,” Zack Sykes says.
Chapter Twelve
Forrest
A vein pulses in my throat, as though all the rage coursing through me is going to explode out of that specific point. The wood of the railing creaks and whines as I grip it harder, glaring down into the lowlight at the piece of shit interrupting the most important dinner of my life.
He’s tall, around my height, and wide and thick-muscled. But he has a swollen look about him I recognize from my volunteer work at the self-defense gym back home.
Some of the teenagers sometimes try and seek shortcuts, taking steroids, ballooning themselves up rather than take the hard path and do it properly.
I try to help those kids as much as I can, but I won’t have junkies in my class. Once they’ve rehabilitated – which I pay for – they’re more than welcome to return.
This man probably has forty pounds on me, all of it artificially gained.
He has short black hair cut bald on the sides, and he’s wearing a loud blue suit with an even louder gold watch glinting at his wrist. His teeth shine luminous, as though he’s whitened them.
“You’re not touching my woman,” I snarl.
The man flinches.
“Your woman?” he growls.
Behind me, Fiona lets out a whimper that causes more daggers of fury to lance painfully through me.
We were just having a romantic dinner, and now we’ve got to deal with this shit bag.
“Forrest,” she whispers. “That’s him. That’s Zack Sykes.”
Fuck.
“My woman,” I say, nodding. “So you better leave before I lose my patience.”
“Do you have any idea who I am?”
“A two-bit criminal who thinks he’s tough.”
“No, no, no,” he says, cackling wildly.
He sounds deranged, or like he’s on something.
Or both.
“I’m a big fish, Mr. Ford, a big fish indeed. You might want to be careful how you talk to me. I’ve been patient with Fiona for a long time now, but she’s starting to really piss me off. I mean, what else does she want from me? I follow her to Paris, for Christ’s sake. If that’s not love, what is?”
“You might have a point,” I say, as the wood creaks and whines and starts to splinter in my hands. “If she felt the same way. But she doesn’t. She wants nothing to do with you. So it’s time for you to leave.”
“How did you find me?” Fiona cries, walking up beside me. “How did you know I was here?”
“Your idiot mother posted about it on social media,” he grins, clearly proud of himself. “So off to Paris I came. And then what do I see in the online tabloids, but my little angel walking through one of Paris’ most exclusive restaurants with Forrest Ford. That gave me quite the shock, that you’d cheat on me like that, betray my trust like that. But I’m ready to forgive you.”
“You’re sick,” Fiona whispers.
“Send her down here,” Zack says, glaring at me. “Or this is going to get really, really bad for you.”
“Fiona’s her own woman,” I snap. “I don’t send her anywhere. If she wants to go with you, she’s welcome to.”
“I thought she said she was your woman?”
“She is,” I snarl. “But I’m not her puppet master. And I haven’t told you what’d happen if she did leave with you tonight.”
“Yeah? And what’s that, tough guy?”
“I’ll beat you to death.”
He forces laughter, clasping his sides, but I can read the uncertainty in his eyes even from up here.
“I’ve got boys coming from the States,” he says. “They’ll be arriving very soon. I’d rather not make this ugly.”
“Then you’re an idiot,” I tell him. “You should’ve waited until you already had backup. Now you’ve played your hand. You couldn’t have honestly believed I was just going to let you kidnap my woman?”
“I have money,” he says.