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“Exactly what the fuck it sounds like!”
She flinches at my tone.
I feel like shit for snapping at her. For about two seconds before I remember exactly how we are. How Bryant and Isa are. We fight dirty but it only serves as foreplay. We turn our dirt into a storm and kill everyone in our path. It is how we are, and fuck me if it didn’t feel good having her standing in front of me right now. She looks good with lighter hair. Maybe even better than her brunette.
I step forward when my cock strains against the zipper in my pants.
I want her. Fuck talking about Devon right now, she’ll soon learn what’s up with him.
She counters my step and walks backward until she hits the wall.
I cage her in with my hands on either side of her and tilt my head. “Miss me?”
“Never.” She keeps her eyes on mine, the defiance only making my palms itchy to have her feisty ass bent over my knee while screaming, bleeding, and coming all over my skin.
I dip down to nibble on her ear. “Still a fucking liar, my sweet little pet.”
“If that’s how you treat your pets, Bryant, then I hope you never own a dog.”
I chuckle, reaching one hand up to curve around her slim throat. “Kiss me.” I feel her inhale sharply, her swollen lips opening slightly to tease mine.
“Where is Bryant!” I groan when I hear Stace’s voice echoing through the house. She’s a pain in my ass.
“Oh!” Stacey says, and I don’t miss the smart-ass tone behind her hostility. She pokes her head out the door. “There you are. Wondered where you both disappeared off to.”
“I got lost,” Isa mutters, ignoring her. “On my search for the bathroom.”
“Huh.” Stacey seems to think over Isa’s lie. “How long did you live in this house?”
Isa was quick, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “I didn’t. I lived in his penthouse. We came here a couple of times but not enough for me to remember where a bathroom is in a twenty-bedroom, intricately architectonic building.”
Stacey dismisses her, and I have to stop myself from physically putting my hands around her skinny little throat and choking her to death for the sheer disrespect.
Just for looking at Isa the wrong way.
Jesus Christ. I need a drink.
Stacey hooks her arm in mine, tugging on me gently. “Come on. Food is ready.”
I flash a look to Isa, her pale cheeks now displaying a pool of red. Either from me rubbing up against her or from the anger of seeing another woman wrapped around my arm.
I wink at her just to work her up before setting off back inside. Back to play the usual game that I set out to play. Back to why it is that I chose Isa.
Back to Stacey and Max.
I take a seat back in my chair, my eyes drifting to Max. He underestimates me if he thinks I don’t know who the fuck he is. Which is good. I need him to underestimate me in order for my plan to work.
Before I can rile him up even more, Isa enters the room and takes her place back on her seat. When Isa is around, the whole world fucking stops. I don’t mean that in a cheesy way, I mean people around her literally stop and stare. The impact her beauty has on people that she doesn’t even know is cataclysmic.
“Sorry.” She flutters her eyelashes at Max. “I got lost.”
My fists clench from beneath the table.
Max shrugs and digs into his food.
I skip it, reaching for the paperwork from beneath the table and tossing it across to Isa.
Her eyes fly up to mine as she grabs it. “What’s this?”
“Exactly why you’re here tonight.” I pick up my whiskey and swirl it around in my glass. I watch as her face morphs into anger as she flicks through each page.
Attempting to hide my smirk behind my glass, I chuckle as she tosses the papers down onto the table. “You’re legally binding me to this house under the grounds of my unstable mental health!”
“I am,” I answer smoothly, taking another pull of the soft whiskey. Her hate only makes my dick hard, so I will always win.
“As in I can’t leave this fucking house.”
I drag my tongue over my lips, smirking.
“As in I have to stay here like a prisoner.”
I chuckle, placing my glass on the table. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Wait!” Max interferes, and my jaw clenches to stop my fist from flying across the table and punching out all his fucking teeth. “You’re not married anymore. You can’t serve her with shit unless a lawyer is present.”
“Actually.” I lean back in my chair and spread my knees wide. “I can.”
“How?” Max argues, his face turning an embarrassing shade of I’m a little bitch.
