Pulse racing, I clutch Decker’s flexed bicep and dig my nails in. “Give him air.”
Decker grunts a deep, angry noise and loosens his hold just enough for Blake to gasp.
A squeak draws my attention to the huddled women. Fuck, they’re going to have a field day with the press over this.
“Everyone out. Now!” I cast them an infuriated glare, and thankfully, they hurry away. I turn back to Decker. “Let him go.”
“That’s fucking bullshit, Laynee. You don’t know how badly I want to break his fucking face. I want to break every bone in his body. He’s a waste of goddamn space.”
Now that Blake can breathe, he takes the opportunity to laugh hoarsely. “You’re letting this guy stick his dick in you? You’re old enough to be his mother.”
In a blur of limbs, Decker flips Blake beneath him and straddles the other man’s hips, putting himself in the most dominant Jiu-Jitsu position. He’s effectively pinned Blake to the ground, face up, so he can pound the ever-loving shit out of every vulnerable body part.
“Decker, don’t.” I touch his shoulder and holy fuck, he’s tense. I harden my tone. “If he walks out of here bloody—”
“He won’t be able to walk.”
“—tomorrow’s headlines will read Laynee Somerset’s anti-violence charity dinner ends in a violent crime of passion. As it turns out, she’s not over Blake Harridan. Please, think through this. You’ll undo every right and good thing we’ve done here tonight.”
Decker’s chest heaves, and the tendons in his neck strain against his skin. After an endless moment, he closes his eyes. When he opens them, he shoves off Blake and grabs my hand. “Let’s go.”
I hurry to keep up with his long-legged strides, but we only make it a couple steps before Blake opens his idiot mouth.
“You always were a weak little bitch, Laynee.”
Decker slams to a halt.
“He’s baiting us.” I tug him forward until Blake speaks again.
“I stretched out her cunt for you.” He laughs. “But I wasn’t able to iron out the wrinkles.”
Fuck this. I whirl toward Blake, but Decker’s already moving with murder in his eyes. I catch his arm.
“Let me.” I don’t wait for his response and instead walk up to my grinning ex-husband.
Rearing back my fist, I swing toward his face. As expected, he dodges, laughing, and I slam my knee into his groin—the same way I did to Decker yesterday. Only this time, I hit harder, pouring all my strength into it, ruthlessly fueled by righteous anger.
I step back as he doubles over. Decker moves in and rains punch after punch on Blake’s torso. Blake moans and swings his arms, but Decker’s a skilled fighter. Blake doesn’t stand a chance of landing a single strike.
Glancing at the exits, I confirm no one’s watching. Then I turn back to appreciate the solid mass of muscle bunching and contracting beneath Decker’s tux. His strikes are so vicious they knock Blake off his feet. Decker doesn’t let up, and I don’t interfere. Whatever comes out of this, it’s worth the deep satisfaction of watching my ex-husband finally get what was coming to him.
Decker doesn’t once hit Blake’s face, and there isn’t a drop of visible blood. When Blake starts to cry beneath the hammering hits, Decker grabs his throat and leans in.
“If you mention to anyone that I so much as touched you, Laynee will release all the evidence she has against you.”
Blake’s pink eyes widen and dart to me.
I don’t have any evidence of Blake’s abuse, but I roll with it. “I hid cameras in our house, Blake. I have hours of footage.”
He drops his head back on the concrete and groans. “Fuck.”
“Let’s go home, baby.” Decker hooks an arm around my back and guides me to the door.
A few minutes later, I walk out of the event with my shoulders back, chin high, and the scarred lines of my back on full display. And just like he vowed, Decker’s right there beside me.
On the way home, he makes me promise not to turn on my phone or look at the news until tomorrow. Given how quickly the event cleared out and Reese’s unusual silence as he steals peeks at his phone, I assume the worst. But I’m on board with Decker’s demand. Doesn’t matter what we do tonight, the shit storm will still be waiting for us tomorrow.
The moment we step inside the house, his deep timbre infiltrates my senses. “I want those gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock.”
“Is that right?” I saunter backwards, twirling a finger in the loose curl dangling beside my face.
“You think I’m playing?” He prowls after me, his expression searing and dead serious. “I’m about two seconds from fucking your face.”
I gulp as each beat of my heart descends lower, lower, until the only beat I feel is the heavy, hard pulse between my legs.