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“Why are you acting like this?” I whisper, my words feathering from my lips to his. The tension in the room is heavy, my head spins from the weed, and while I try to appear confident, I know for a fact he can see past my act. He affects me. It’s never been a secret.
“You’re fucking mine,” he confesses. “I don’t want other men looking at what’s mine.” His words wash over me for a moment, warming every inch of me, causing my thighs to once more squeeze together.
Cassian doesn’t miss the movement as his eyes drop to my legs. “Does that make your pussy wet?” he taunts, lowering his voice to a gravely hiss. “Do you like that I’m so fucking obsessed with you?”
“I-I…” No words come out because I’ve never heard him admit how he feels. Our friendship has been easy; we fell into sync as if we were made to know each other. Over the time I’ve known Cassian, I’ve shamelessly flirted with him, but he’s always kept me at arm’s length.
He’s so close. His mouth is inches from mine. If I were to move forward, barely an inch, I would finally have what I’ve always wanted—a kiss. But I don’t. Because this isn’t how it’s meant to happen. Call me a girl with my head in the clouds, but I want Cassian to kiss me. Not the other way around.
The air in the room is filled with sexual tension, and my stomach twists as he leans in but misses my lips by a hairsbreadth; instead, he runs his warmth over my cheek. “I thought so,” he finally says before pushing away from me. “Put your clothes on; I’ll be back.” He heads to a door to our left, which I’m guessing is an en-suite bathroom.
“Will you?” I challenge from the door with my hands trembling and my knees weak as I try to keep from collapsing.
Before he shuts himself inside, he glances over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll always come back for you.”
24
Cassian
By the time I get to the living room, I’m still hard, still wanting to claim the girl in the bedroom down the hall. When I step into the room, Finn glances up from talking to Harris. Both men watch me as I settle in the chair overlooking the table where the laptops are set up.
“She’s worried he won’t confess,” I say, my voice still scratchy from my talk with Kalyn. “I want this bastard taken down as soon as possible. Do we have the evidence?” This time, I lift my attention toward Harris, who nods.
“I have video evidence from one of the partygoers. It clearly shows Morales injecting Kalyn with something. Obviously, we’re not able to know what was in the syringe, but later that night, more videos were taken by attendees showing her not in the best condition.”
This piques my interest, but it also skyrockets my rage. “What do you mean?”
He sets down an iPad on the table in front of me and taps play on the video. On screen, Kalyn is dancing with a few girls at a party. Her head lolling side to side, and she doesn’t seem to be with it. My blood simmers at the sight. I’ve seen her like that before, but at the time, she was a kid, and I pulled her into my car and took her home.
Every time she lost her fight, I was there, fighting for her.
“I want Morales locked up,” I tell Harris. “I want him downstairs, chained to the wall so we can question him.”
“The team is here for you, Cassian,” he tells me. The older man, who I’ve known all my life, has seen me grow into the person I am today. He’s seen my heartbreaks, my anger, and he’s seen my rage. When my father wasn’t around, Harris was. I glance up at him, and I don’t have to tell him what I want done, because he already knows.
The crunching of gravel outside is our evidence that Paulo is here. It doesn’t take long for Harris’s men to make a beeline for the BMW that’s pulled up at our door. I listen to the footsteps, then the door whooshes open with curse words flying from Paulo’s mouth.
“What the fuck is this? What fucking bullshit are you planning here?” He struggles to get free, and I note that Harris has four men surrounding him. He’s not going anywhere. I push to my feet before making my way to our guest.
“Mr. Morales,” I greet as I button up my suit jacket. With an image of Kalyn in a state of drunkenness in my mind, I rear my hand back and make contact with the asshole’s face, earning me a sickening crunch of bone under my knuckles.
Blood drips from his nose when Paulo turns his attention back to me. “You bastard, I’ll fucking kill you,” he threatens, causing me to chuckle.
