She shoved at my shoulder, the one without the bloody scratch from her spiked heel. “Then I’m not crazy. You followed me in here. Deny it.”
“Why would I?”
Bonnie fought against me. I fucked her until my dick was fully hard again then stood with her in my arms. We needed to leave as everyone else had done, but I wasn’t about to stop doing my new favourite thing on the way.
“You’re mine. Don’t forget that. Thirty days and nights. Mine whenever I want. But just as sure, I’m yours, too.”
“I don’t want you.”
I ignored the sting of rejection, the cool night air wrapping around us when we emerged to cheering crowds.
“You will.”
I came inside her for a second time, draped over my car, an audience whooping us on, and with one decision in my brain.
She’d want me as much as I wanted her by the last date of our commitment. I’d make sure of it.
Chapter 9
Bonnie
Cold leather pressed against my bare thighs where my borrowed t-shirt only just covered my backside. Not that I was focused on that. I was too busy staring out the window and trying to ignore the man driving the car like he owned the bloody road.
Maybe he did. Who was I to know how rich men spent their money?
“Elijah Westwood,” I muttered.
He flexed his fingers on the wheel. “Love the way you say my name.”
I didn’t answer.
Because I still didn’t know what the hell to make of him.
He’d followed me into the game, and I had no illusions. It wasn’t a coincidence. He hadn’t just stumbled across predator-prey dating in a Deadwater warehouse. He’dlooked me up. And he’d come for me.
Elijah huffed a laugh. “Stop glaring at the windshield. You’ll damage it.”
“I’m not glaring.”
“You’re glowering, then. Ferociously.”
“You hunted me. I mean before the game. You stalked me.”
“I pursued you. There’s a difference.”
“Oh, right. Silly me. Stalking a woman then chasing her through a basement is the respectable version.”
We slowed at a junction, and he turned to glance at me.
“That wasn’t just a chase, beautiful. That was the start of the rest of our lives.”
My skin prickled.
I looked away.
The big car slid through the centre of Deadwater, passing restaurants and clubs on the main strip. It was late, but the streets were still busy with revellers on the warm evening. We slowed outside of a sleek and very exclusive hotel, which I knew because I’d once applied for a job there, and Elijah waited for the barrier to rise.
I frowned. “We’re staying here? I thought billionaires lived in penthouses with private lifts and panic rooms.”
