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Now it’s me who steps towards her. I need to be touching her. I go behind her and rest my hands on her waist, leaving her sandwiched between Mac and me.
“Angel, I want to make one thing crystal fucking clear.” Possessiveness causes my grip on her to tighten. “We will keep you safe. No matter what. I would give my life to keep you safe. Every fucking time. That is how much you are worth.”
“Do you understand?” Mac asks.
She doesn’t answer him.
“Answer him, Harper. Do you understand?”
Nothing, I know she doesn’t believe us. She doesn’t think she’s worth it, that she’s worth our protection. She’s putting up a wall, trying to push us away before we get too close. Because if we’re close, we can leave her; if we leave her, she’ll be alone.
I know what that feels like. And if I have anything to do with it, she will never be alone.
The last fifteen minutes, combined with the broke look on her face and my need to make it all better, are enough to tip me over the edge.
I can’t take it anymore.
She may think we have her in our lives because we have to. That once the threat is gone, she’ll be able to leave.
No. She needs to understand what I feel. What Mac feels. And, as soon as he grows a pair, what Ronan feels. She’s not fucking leaving. I already know she’s too important.
I shoot Mac a look over her shoulder; without a word, he knows exactly what I’m thinking. He bends over and lifts her off the ground. On instinct, she wraps her legs around Mac’s waist. Gently, he sets her on the black leather couch against the wall.
His nature with women is to be gentle because that’s who he is at his very core.
Not me.
In the bedroom, I’m in control. I like it fucking rough, and I want a woman to do exactly as I say. Most would argue it’s a complete one-eighty from who I am outside the bedroom.
A people pleaser who does as he’s told.
It’s part of the reason I’ve mostly avoided women all these years. I’ve never found one who can handle the whiplash that is my sexual appetite.
I know Mac’s instinct is to be soft with Harper, but right now, I’m not so sure that’s what she needs. She needs someone to make her understand what she does to us. She needs to know how she makes us lose control. I know Mac’s up for the challenge. I’ve seen him do it before. Taking a step forward, I grab Harper’s hand and stand her up.
“Turn around, Harper.” She hesitates, barely mustering the courage to look me in the eye. I’ve been going easy on her the last week, not fully unleashing my demons. I don’t want to scare her away, but with Mac here, I know he won’t let me get too far. He won’t let me hurt her.
I firmly grab her jaw, “Harper. Turn. Around. Now.” Her eyes instantly widen. She knows I mean business. She turns around, and I gather the bottom of her dress in my hands and lift it up over her head, grazing my fingertips along her skin as I go. I hear Mac taking his shirt off behind me.
I begin biting at the skin along Harper’s shoulders, causing a shiver to run through her body. “I’m going to mark every fucking inch of this beautiful body. Everyone will know who you belong to.”
Slowly I lower myself, biting down her spine as I go until my lips meet the lace of her underwear. I run my fingers between her legs over the fabric. “God, Angel. These are soaked. Did we do this to you?”
Once again, she doesn’t answer. I bite her ass hard. She yelps and tries to turn around, but not before I grab her hips, keeping her facing the couch. “Here’s how this is going to go, Angel. If Mac and I ask you a question, you answer, or you’ll be punished. Do you understand me?”
Nothing.
I bite her again, harder this time. “Answer me, Harper. Now.”
“Yes. Yes, I understand.”
“Good.” I hear her breath quicken. “Who made you wet? Was it that fucking asshole on the dance floor?”
“No! I swear!”
I knew it wasn’t, but I wanted to hear her say it. “Then who?”
“You, Finn.”
