“Is this what I think this is?” I ask again wanting a straight answer. I’m not even sure how I feel about the fact he brought me here as a trophy to parade around.
“You spend a lot of time here, no?” he asks, finishing the last vestiges of scotch in his glass.
“Yes.”
“Come here with your girlfriends?”
I nod, sipping my drink.
“Think of it as saving you the uncomfortableness of having to tell an eager male that you’re now taken.” He slides his now empty glass away from him.
Again that hear-me-roar woman and the teenage girl fight a few rounds in my head.
“I’m seeing this more as you staking your claim,” I say.
His lips turn up into his cocky grin. “Is that a bad thing?”
“It means you’re using me as a status symbol or a belonging of yours. I am my own person.” I push the Vesper away from me and slide out of the booth.
“Hannah?” he asks, sounding confused.
Keeping up appearances so as to not to give this group more gossip than they already have, I set my gaze on him. “I am not your piece on the side. I am not yours to own, Roarke. I am your…girlfriend. I have my own mind. I make my own decisions. I have my own life. I’m not the shiny fire hydrant at the end of the block you piss around to warn others off.”
I turn on my heels heading for the door, smiling politely at the fellow patrons who had their attention set on us the entire time.
“Good night, Sam.” I nod, and he opens the door for me.
I stroll down the alley until a hand wraps around my wrist and whips me around, pressing my back to the brick wall.
Roarke steps closer and his steady gaze is fixed to mine, his chest is rising and falling in rapid succession. “You have no idea, do you?” he asks, his tone curt and contrite.
“I don’t have time for his.” I step to the side, but his hand lands on my hip, stopping me.
“Ms. Crowley.” Sam’s booming voice echoes down the alley.
Roarke’s eyes don’t move from mine.
“I’m good, Sam. Thank you.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Fucking Christ,” Roarke mumbles.
“I’m sure.” I lift my voice so he knows this might be a lover’s quarrel, but Roarke would never hurt me. Something inside of me says that anyway. I know Sam’s eyes will be locked on the security cameras in case I’m wrong.
“Okay,” he says reluctantly and the door shuts and my attention shifts back to Roarke.
“Do you have any idea how many men in that room want you?” he asks. “How they ogle you? Make remarks about your tight ass or your perky tits? I’ve already made threats to half of them already. I’m sorry Hannah, I know you are your own woman and I love that quality of yours, but those men in there will know from today on that you are mine. Am I claiming you? Hell yes, I am.”
My chest heaves and I know I should push him away. Shove him to the side and run.
“I’m not going to apologize for it.” I feel like he’s testing me.
“I don’t belong to anyone,” I bite out.
He lowers his head, his lips millimeters from mine. “I’m an equal opportunity guy. Would it help if you can claim me too?”
I close my eyes and his lips press to mine and then disappear.
“I’ve been yours for an entire year,” he murmurs.
I wind my hands around his neck, pulling him into me, murmuring between kisses. “I never knew you were so soft.” I grin.
His hands slide down and grip my ass, thrusting me into his pelvis. “Does this feel soft to you?”
“Take me home,” I say.
His lips are hard and firm as they land on mine again. My stomach rumbles and the vibration of his laugh ripples through his chest. “I need to feed you first.”
A phone rings and he steps back from me, leaving my body chilled even though the humidity in the ninety-degree heat should make me sweat.
“I have to get this. Hold on.” He steps away, lowering his voice when he answers. A horn honks and then a siren goes off. By the time the siren fades into the background, he’s tucking his phone back into his jacket.
“Everything okay?” I ask as he approaches me.
His jaw is tight, but he forces a smile onto his face that does nothing to convince me it’s sincere.
“Fine. Just something I forgot to handle earlier.”
His hand slides into mine and he leads me down the alley. He’ll always have a lot of work related issues and with the whole attorney-client privilege I should get used to not knowing everything when it comes to him.
“So we cleared that up, right?” I ask because I think I may have lost my point somewhere between our kiss and his erection.
“Yeah, we own one another.” His hand flies in the air to wave down a cab.
“I have a feeling that this won’t be our last fight about this topic.”
A cab pulls up to the curb and he opens the door, so I can slide in. His large body presses to mine immediately and he rambles an address to the driver.
“Let’s just enjoy tonight.”
His hand lands on my thigh, his fingers dipping between my legs and the topic evaporates from my mind, replaced only with lust.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Roarke: Meet me at 5491 S. Shore Drive. Bring Lucy.
I read the text one more time as Lucy and I step out of the car. She pulls on her leash and I barely shut the door before I’m halfway through a tunnel.
“Slow down girl.” I try to show her the authority the dog trainer told me to, but I’m the worst dog owner ever or she’s the most stubborn dog ever.
Once we’re out of the tunnel, Lake Michigan and a large lawn of grass fill my vision. There’s families, couples, dogs, and kids enjoying a nice Saturday. My eyes scan all the faces, trying to see why Roarke would have sent me to this.
Then I step farther into the lush green carpet of grass and my eyes find Roarke.
Usually my heart flips when I see him. My entire body responds with flutters and excitement boiling inside of me until I think I might burst. It’s the best feeling and I hope it never vanishes if we stay together for a long time.
Today none of those things happen because he’s standing at the edge of the lake with a woman. A blonde who’s smiling up at him like he’s her savior and not in a brotherly type way. She’s all teeth, tits and toes out. She’s wearing a short mini skirt with a tight tank top, the strings of a bikini peeking out and wrapped around her neck. She’s also much younger than me.
I watch them for a moment, and I know why I’m doing it. Back before I’d been burned, I would have stalked up to them, slid my hand through his arm, and claimed him just like he did me at Torrio’s the other night.
But this is after and so I keep my distance, investigating and scrutinizing every smile, every shifting of weight and every look they give one another.
Roarke’s hands stay tucked in his shorts. He never leans forward toward her, but she steps closer with every word. With his back to me, I can’t see his face, but damn I wish I could when she grabs the hem of her shirt, stripping it off her body to reveal a large pair of tits along with a smooth and taut stomach. Tucking her tank top in the back of her shorts she uses the excuse to push out her tits in his direction.