Chapter 2
Wolf
Ikissheragain.
Her mouth opens under mine with a sound that goes straight through me, and for a second the bar disappears. There’s only the heat of her body in my lap, the grip of her hands on my cut, and the way she leans into me like she’s found the one place in the world that isn’t moving.
I pull back when I have to breathe.
She’s still right there, soft and shaking, her eyes wide like she doesn’t know what happens after a man claims you like that in public. Her cardigan has slipped, the dress is wrinkled, and she looks like she was dropped into this world with no warning and told to survive anyway.
Curvy. Beautiful. Too damn beautiful.
The kind of woman who could melt the walls I built if I get careless.
My hand stays locked around her waist, steady and firm like an anchor.
Her fingers clutch my cut like leather can keep her together.
I lift my eyes over her shoulder.
He’s close enough to be a problem.
He moves like people usually step aside for him. Calm in a room that runs on smoke and muscle. No hesitation, no doubt, no rush.
She goes rigid on my lap when he stops at the edge of my table. Her breath catches and her whole body braces like she expects to be grabbed.
My grip tightens at her waist, holding her in place.
I dip my mouth to her ear. “Stay with me. Don’t turn around.”
She nods once, quick and scared.
He looks down at her like she’s something he misplaced.
“Evie,” he says smoothly. “There you are.”
Evie.
The name suits her. Soft, pretty, and stronger than it sounds.
The air in the room changes. Chairs scrape. A couple of patched brothers straighten without making a show of it. The bartender stops moving for a beat. Nobody needs instructions. They just pay attention.
Evie’s hands bunch harder in my cut. She still doesn’t move.
I keep my eyes on him. “You’re too close.”
His gaze slides to mine, measuring. Then it flicks to the skull patch on my back and the cut on my shoulders. He registers what he walked into.
He keeps his polite smile anyway.
“This is a private matter,” he says.
Evie flinches like the words have weight.
I lean back in my chair and keep her right where she is. Protected. Mine.
“It isn’t private anymore,” I say.
