Page 57 of Cozen

That’s exactly what Sargon was.

So fucked.

“I’m currently a little busy here,” Sargon said.

Fuck the risk of a fine.

He pulled the car out of the shaded parking spot, and onto the road. A little too fast, probably, considering his tires squealed a bit on the wet pavement. He even flipped the bird at the guy in the shitty white Toyota behind him when the asshole honked at him for cutting him off.

He probably shouldn’t have done that, either.

Sargon was not supposed to draw attention to himself—Jett’s orders. Or rather, Cozen was not supposed to notice he was following her.

Jett didn’t want his possible toy to run off, or some nonsense like that.

“She’s off now, isn’t she?” Jett asked.

Sargon checked the clock. “For about four minutes now, yeah.”

“Then, she’s fine.”

“She walks home.” Sargon thought he might have caught sight of Cozen’s wavy, russet-brown hair as he slowed his car behind a cab. He couldn’t be sure, though. “In the middle of Manhattan, Jett. She doesn’t even take a cab.”

“Mmm, I know. I would send a car for her, but—”

“Wouldn’t want her to know you’re spying on her, huh?”

Jett chuckled. “Well, something like that.”

“What did you need?”

Because Sargon really was kind of busy. Honestly, he just didn’t like to obsess over Cozen while having Jett in the same vicinity. Even talking on the phone was a little too close for comfort as far as Sargon was concerned.

Did his voice change when he talked about her? Was it obvious his dick was tied in a knot over her?

He did not think Jett would appreciate Sargon’s interest in Cozen, never mind the fact he had slept with the woman. Disrespect was one thing, but this was an all-out betrayal. Not to mention, if Jett did find out, he was liable to come back on Cozen for it, too.

Sargon wasn’t willing to risk something like that simply because he didn’t have more self-control, and slipped up. Yeah, a slip up. That was a good way to describe what the two of them had done together. He had fucked her for hours, tasted her pussy, and left his marks all over her body before he left the next morning.

Sargon did like to leave a mark of possession. Cozen’s body was a blank canvas, and he couldn’t help himself but mark it up.

Not a blank canvas anymore.

It made his dick hard to think about it.

Jesus Christ.

He was going to get himself killed.

Sargon felt foolish.

Absolutely fucking foolish.

“It’s been, what, three weeks?” Jett asked. “Time to hand over whatever you have for me, I think.”

Sargon was almost grateful for the man’s interruption into his thoughts. “Three weeks for what, Jett?”

“Since I gave you the contacts to find information on Cozen. What is up with you, Sargon? You’re usually quicker on the ball than this.”