by Alexa Wilder
“How did she hurt her hand?” Axel asked, taking a sidelong look at Leigha’s hand.
“Punched an asshole,” I said.
“Where were you?” Axel’s brow was raised again, partly in curiosity, mostly in censure. I didn’t need it. I knew I was responsible.
“Following him. Too slowly, it turned out.”
“Dylan, I’m okay,” Leigha interrupted. “Really. I’ve been wanting to punch Peter for months. If you’d shown up earlier, I’d have missed my chance.”
That was my girl, trying to give me what I needed. I had no doubt Leigha had enjoyed hitting that fucker, but she shouldn’t have had to. We reached the bar and claimed a row of high-backed stools.
“A bag of ice for the lady’s hand,” I said to the bartender. He nodded and disappeared into the back.
“So you ditched us for a girl,” Sam said, shaking his head. To Leigha, he said, “What are you doing with this guy? Why don’t you give me a shot and see what I can do for you?”
To my right I saw Axel shake his head. Sam was the funny one of the three of us. I opened my mouth to tell him to shut the fuck up when Leigha spoke, her voice caught in a laugh, light and sweet.
“You might want to rethink that offer. I punched the last guy who tried to get me away from Dylan.”
Sam winced and pretended to duck his head in fear of her fists. Axel smiled and shook his head again. He knew me well enough to hold back the teasing until I’d at least taken care of Leigha’s hand. So did Sam, but he was always willing to test my temper if he thought it was funny.
“Did you leave the guy alive?” Axel asked, only half kidding. I shrugged.
“Yeah. But he’s not going to look too pretty at his wedding.” Leigha giggled.
“Christie is going to be so pissed. Even if his nose isn’t broken, he’ll look awful. He was bleeding everywhere.” At Sam and Axel’s confused look, she said, “Christie is my sister. I’m here for her wedding. Peter is the groom. And Dylan and I met when I was crying into my drink because I didn’t have a date for the wedding. He came to my rescue.”
“I can’t imagine you didn’t have men lined up out the door to take you out,” Sam said, dropping his jokester persona for the smooth charm he used on women. He’d better check that with Leigha. I’d taken him down before. I’d do it again if I had to. Leigha just smiled at him and shook her head.
“I live a quiet life,” she said in explanation. “So, you three are friends? Do you guys work with Dylan?”
“No,” I said, cutting in. “Sam owns Desert Vistas Construction and Axel is the western head of Sinclair Security. I contract with him on occasion.” Leigha looked from Sam to Axel to me.
“Okay. Wow. I know both of those companies. They’re huge. So you’re all billionaires? And you hang out together? You’re like the Alpha Billionaire’s Club. Talk about dates being lined up out the door.” She looked at her feet, trying to hide her smile. “I might faint from the concentration of hotness.”
Even Axel smiled at that. For someone who was shy by nature, Leigha was coming out of her shell. I approved of her growing confidence, even though I hated that she was using it to flirt with my friends. The bartender returned with a plastic bag of crushed ice. I thanked him and took it, pressing it gently to Leigha’s bruised knuckles. I knew my friends. They sensed Leigha wasn’t one of my interchangeable dates and they weren’t going to leave us alone until they got a feel for her. I might as well settle in and make the best of it.
23
Leigha
Dylan held the bag of ice against my hand with care, conscious that too much pressure would bring me pain. I could tell he was still riled up from the confrontation with Peter and pissed that I’d hurt myself. I didn’t care about my hand. A little pain was worth seeing Peter bleeding from my punch to his nose. What an ass. I couldn’t believe my sister was really going to marry him. If she’d been a different woman, I’d have told her about Peter, tried to convince her to call it off. Christie wouldn’t care that he was planning to cheat. She’d probably spent the last month personally interviewing for their pool boy—very personally.
Dylan’s free arm came around my waist, pulling me back until I was flush with his chest. Taking a deep breath, I relaxed into him. I didn’t know what kind of cologne he wore, or if that scent was just his soap, but he always smelled so good. He and his friends had changed the subject off me and onto something else. I wasn’t paying attention. Something about vandalism on a construction site.
Our small group drew eyes from all over the casino floor, mostly women checking out the three hot men at the bar. The way Dylan held me, I could barely be seen over his shoulder except by Sam, Axel, and the bartender. That was fine with me. I’d had a little fun joking around with Dylan’s friends, but I only wanted Dylan’s attention. Funny how being with Dylan gave me the confidence to flirt with Sam and Axel. Normally I wouldn’t be able to work up the nerve to speak to men that attractive, but with Dylan at my side, knowing I was his, I was comfortable. The bartender returned and asked for our order.
“What do you want, love?” Dylan asked dipping his head to touch his lips to the shell of my ear. I shivered against him.
“Just water, please. Nothing more to drink.”
“Good girl. I don’t want you falling asleep on me.”
He passed my order along to the bartender and went back to his discussion with Sam and Axel. I could have joined in. They weren’t excluding me. But I was happy to be where I was, cuddled into Dylan, letting my mind drift over the rest of our evening. So far, sex with Dylan had been demanding, mind-blowing, and unexpected. I was both nervous and eager to see what he had in store for me next.
I people watched, occasionally contributing to the conversation when I had something to say. In the time it took us to empty our glasses, three sets of women had come up to us and hit on the guys, Dylan included. They didn’t seem to care that he was glued to me. They propositioned him right over my head. Each time, he politely, yet firmly, pointed out that he was both taken, and not interested. The fourth pair of predatory females was a cut above the others. I didn’t know a lot of beautiful women, but these two were perfection. One a redhead and the other blonde, they were tall, shapely, and exquisitely dressed.
“Well, look who we found,” the redhead said, winding her arm around Sam’s waist. Clearly she knew the guys. The blonde winked at Dylan and kissed Axel on the cheek.
“My favorite troublemakers,” she said. “It’s a good thing Charity had other plans since you have your hands full,” she said to Dylan. His arm around my waist squeezed tight. I wasn’t sure if it was in possession or reassurance.
“I do,” he answered. “Leigha, meet Lacey and Violet.”
I didn’t have my hands free since one was still on ice and the other was trapped by Dylan’s arm, so I nodded and smiled. To my surprise, both women nodded and smiled back.
“Too bad for us,” Violet said from her place beside Sam. Giving Sam a playful elbow in his gut, she went on, “Dylan is the best of these three.”
“Hey,” Sam said in affront. “You’ve never complained before.”
“Not complaining, sweetie. Just pointing out that Dylan is the best catch of the three of you.”
“Because of his business?” I asked, ready to change my cautious approval to dislike if Violet was judging Dylan on his bank account.
“Not that, honey. All three of these boys are loaded. But Sam is a terminal bachelor. Someday Axel and Dylan will both settle down, but not Sam.”
“So what’s wrong with me? Why is Dylan a better catch than I am?” Axel asked, not sounding the least bit concerned that he wasn’t at the top of their list. Considering that Lacey was pressed up against him, he didn’t seem to have cause for worry. Lacey shot him a look that said, ‘Get real.’ Out loud, she said, “You’re a little scary. So serious all the time. And your job isn’t exactly low key.”
“I thought you ran Sinclair Security?” I asked. Axel seemed serio
us, but I wouldn’t have called him scary.
“I do,” he said, a wry smile curving his lips. “But I also handle our more specialized cases.”
“Sometimes they get a little hairy,” Sam cut in.
“Oh,” I said.
I could only imagine the kind of jobs Axel took. I’d heard of Sinclair Security. They didn’t do pay-by-the-month house alarms. They specialized in elite systems for the wealthiest clients. And they provided personal security for everyone from visiting dignitaries to celebrities with scary stalkers. I knew about them because one of their people had foiled an assassination attempt on a foreign ambassador a few months before. He’d foiled it by taking the bullet himself. It had been huge in the news. Not only had the Sinclair team protected their client, they’d tracked down the assassin and handed him over to the police.
I gave Axel another look. This time, I saw it. Beneath his quiet demeanor was a core of steel. This man would get the job done, no matter what it took. Curious, I asked,
“Was the ambassador’s attempted assassination one of your hairy cases?” I knew he’d know what I was talking about. The assassination attempt had been on every news channel for over a week. Axel shook his head.
“The ambassador was business as usual. Unfortunate that it hit the news. We like to keep a low profile. News should be about our clients, not our agents.”
“Is the guy who got shot okay? The last I saw, he was in the hospital.”
“He’s back in the field. It was only a shoulder, nothing serious.”
“Good,” I said. Axel winked at me.
He was hot, no question. That thick, short, dark hair, his almost black eyes, a lean but powerful build. Still, Lacey was right. Not exactly great relationship material. I sure as hell wouldn’t be comfortable with a man who considered a bullet to the shoulder a minor issue. Not if he was out there facing far more dangerous stuff than just being shot. The woman who took him on would have to be strong enough to handle his job and laid back enough not to freak out about it. Feeling like poking at him, I leaned my head back and looked up at Dylan.
“Your job isn’t dangerous, is it?” He rubbed his chin against my temple, smiling down at me.
“Not remotely. Stressful sometimes. But not dangerous.”
“Good,” I whispered, forgetting for a moment that we had company. Dylan’s eyes had darkened to a rich green, the color so deep I felt myself falling into them. His eyes were saying something I liked, something warm and hopeful that had my heart racing. A throat cleared. I flushed and looked up to see Axel studying me with a grave expression.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Violet said, gesturing at Dylan and me.
“All right,” Sam said. “Enough of that, Dyl. You’re making us look bad in front of the ladies.” Turning to Lacey and Violet, he said, “Do you two want to go out and have some fun? It looks like Dylan and Leigha are in for the night.”
Both women agreed, and with a few nods and winks, the four of them left the bar. The ice bag on my knuckles was mostly water by this point. I dropped it on the bar beside my empty water glass.
“Do you want to go and have some fun?” Dylan asked.
“Only if the fun is upstairs in your penthouse,” I said. “Your friends were nice, but I don’t want to share you anymore.”
His fierce smile was all the answer I needed. With one arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder, Dylan led the way to the elevators. This time, our silent ride up to the penthouse didn’t leave me feeling awkward and uncertain. I thought I was coming to understand where I stood with Dylan. I hoped I was.
Without speaking, we passed through the entryway and into his penthouse. As soon as we crossed the threshold, Dylan turned and headed straight for the bedroom. I followed without protest. In complete silence, he stopped beside the bed and stared at me, taking me in from head to toe. I stared back, absorbing the way he looked in his perfectly tailored suit, hoping it would shortly be on the floor. Reading my mind, he stripped off his jacket, dropping it on the bed. His shirt followed seconds later, his eyes never leaving mine.
I reached for the zipper at my back, lowering it slowly. When it was all the way down, I stopped, letting Dylan push the lace of the bodice off my shoulders. The fabric caught on my breasts before giving in to the pull of gravity and falling to the carpet. I stood there, naked except for my spike-heeled sandals. I expected Dylan to pounce. I was tempted to pounce on him, and he only had his shirt off.
What he did took me by surprise, melting my wary heart. Stepping closer, until the tips of my breasts touched his chest, he took my mouth in a slow, devastating kiss. His kiss didn’t rush, didn’t push. He tasted me—no, he savored me. I know, because I was doing the same - falling deeper and deeper into our kiss as my hands sank into his thick, silky hair.
We stood there kissing for what felt like forever. When he finally turned and lowered me to my back on the comforter, I was more than ready for him. But then, I’d been ready since before I’d unzipped my dress. I opened my legs, inviting him into my body, lifting my arms in welcome.
After the violence of the fight with Peter, and Dylan's anger that I was hurt, I expected his touch to be rough. Demanding. I wasn't prepared for tenderness. Dylan moved us up the bed until I was cradled in the pillows and fell to worshiping my body with determined focus.
His hands skated over my skin, stroking, rubbing, paying just as much attention to my rib cage and my elbows as he did to my breasts. He took his time, exploring every inch of me, lavishing attention all over. I squirmed under his weight, more eager for his cock with every second that passed. By the time he shifted to press his hard length against me, I was desperate, wild with need.
He pushed his way inside my slick pussy, taking my mouth with his as he moved in long, slow thrusts. Dylan was taking his time, but I came in a blinding flash, helpless to resist the way he stretched my aroused flesh, the way he ground into my clit when he went deep.
Dylan let me break our kiss to cry out my pleasure. When I was done gasping and moaning, he took my mouth again. Echoes of the orgasm began to build back up as he continued to move inside me in the same deliberate pace.
No one had ever kissed me the way Dylan did. I felt every emotion through his mouth—passion, possession, need, and affection. All of it swirled through me, drawing me into him. The second orgasm was almost on me when he stopped moving and broke our kiss.
I opened my eyes to see him glaring down at me, his eyes clear and bright in the light from the living room.
“No one touches you but me. Never again.”
I blinked up at him, resisting the urge to thrust myself on his cock, still buried inside me.
“I should have been there,” he said.
“You were.”
"Not soon enough," he growled.
“I'm okay,” I assured him. “It won't happen again."
"No. It won't." Simple words, but they felt like a vow.
"Dylan." I reached one hand up to his face and rubbed the furrows between his eyes. "It's okay." He jerked his face away from my hand.
"You don't understand. You're mine. Mine. No one touches you. No one hurts you. No one scares you. No one. Not ever."
I didn't know what to say. He was right, I didn't understand. In less than two days he'd gone from propositioning me for the weekend to declaring ownership of me. How had this happened? If he meant it, if this was real...
He must have seen the uncertainty flickering in my eyes.
"Say it," he rasped out, his voice guttural. "Now. Say it."
Meeting his intense green eyes, I whispered, "Yours. I'm yours."
“Mine,” he said again and thrust hard into my pussy. “Mine.”
Taking my wrists into one hand, he hauled them over my head and pinned me to the bed, fucking me hard, his deliberate, gentle touch transformed into an aggressive claiming. Under the force of his body taking mine, the base of his cock grinding into my clit, my nipples scraping his chest, my brain scattered. I co
uld think about what this meant later. All I cared about at that moment was Dylan. His heat, his passion, and his need for me. He was all I’d ever dreamed of in a man.
No, he was more perfect than my dreams. He was everything. The blistering heat of my second orgasm took me under. I wrapped my arms and legs around Dylan’s body, digging my nails into his back and rocking up, my pussy squeezing him as tightly as my arms. I heard him groan, felt him stiffen as he emptied himself inside me. Then I passed out.
24
Leigha
I opened my eyes to a dark room, momentarily forgetting where I was. I shifted to sit up, and the arm tightening on my waist brought me back to reality. I was in Dylan’s penthouse. We’d crashed after the most intense sex I’d ever had. And I thought Dylan had said some profound things in the middle of it. About me belonging to him. Not weekend fling kind of stuff.
Just as I wondered why I was awake, I heard a ping from the side of the bed. My phone. Someone was texting me. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was after two in the morning. Who would be texting me? Belatedly, I remembered the weird messages I’d gotten earlier. I’d thought they were a mistake, until I saw my name. It had been stupid to hope they’d go away if I ignored them. I’d just wanted one night of a fairy tale with Dylan. A night when nothing could go wrong. Peter had almost ruined that, but punching him had been a fantasy for a while, so his offensive behavior turned out to be a blessing.
Easing out from under Dylan’s arm, I left the bed, grabbing my phone from the bedside table on the way to the bathroom. Maybe it was just one of my friends drunk texting me from a bar. It was Friday night. That didn’t happen often, but it did happen. I checked the display on the phone. It was not a friend.
I’m tired of all this bullshit.