“I haven’t changed. I’m still selfish. Give me back my toy,” Whit demands, his deep voice wrapping all around me, leaving me feeling weak. “What you’re currently holding onto, belongs to me.”
“Don’t you mean who?” Monty chides as he turns to look at me. “Don’t mind him. He has the most boorish manners sometimes. It’s almost as if he were raised by wolves.”
“I was. Feral ones who’ll slit your skinny throat with their teeth.” Whit reaches for me, his fingers casually locking around my wrist and tugging me toward him. But Monty won’t let me go. Not yet. “She’s not your type, Monty.”
“Oh I know, but she’s a beauty.” Monty’s gaze is filled with longing as he studies me. “You’re such a lucky girl. Does he ravish you every night?”
I don’t answer him. I’m sure the look I send him is answer enough.
Monty lets go of me at the same time Whit pulls on my arm, and I go to Whit easily. He wraps his arm around my waist, his fingers spread wide across my butt as he holds me to him. It’s a possessive gesture. I feel as if I’ve been claimed.
I don’t mind.
“Thank you for taking care of her,” Whit says to Monty, sounding sincere.
“I will watch over your precious toy whenever you need me. She’s an absolute doll.” Monty waves his fingers at me. “Enjoy him tonight, my sweet little season. I have a feeling he’ll be extra feral. Watch the teeth though!”
Whit escorts me away from Monty and his group before I can respond, practically dragging me out of the cavernous room. We rush down a hall, neither of us speaking, my breaths coming faster and faster as worry consumes me.
He’s angry. But I did nothing wrong. And if he accuses me of something—of anything—I’m not going to stand for it.
I’m not.
“Whit,” I protest, but he ignores me. I try to slow down, but he’s moving so fast, his momentum keeps me going, until I finally stumble into him, my entire body pressed against his side.
He turns, pulling me into his arms and roughly pushes me against the wall. I wait for him to kiss me. Grope me. Whatever it is he feels the need to do.
But he does none of that.
Instead, he slips two fingers beneath my chin, tilting my face up so I have no choice but to look at him.
“It isn’t what you think.”
I study his face, how calm he appears. A war wages inside of me. I could hurl insults and accuse him of terrible things. I could cry and carry on and act like a jealous lover.
I do none of those things.
“What happened then?” My voice is even. As if I’m completely unfazed.
“Leighton and I…we have history,” he admits.
Now I am a jealous lover. I hate hearing that.
“And she’s very persistent when she wants to be. I wasn’t interested. She threw herself at me. Even vaguely threatened me.” A storm stirs in his eyes. One moment dark and threatening, the next moment gone. “Leticia is here.”
My heart goes into freefall at just hearing her name. “Your future wife.”
“My future nothing,” he reiterates through clenched teeth. “No one determines my future. Not anymore.”
I blink at him, surprised by the vehemence in his tone.
“Leighton was all over you,” I say.
“That’s correct. She was all over me, not the other way around.” He removes his fingers from my chin to smooth back a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. I shudder at his gentle touch, confused. “It was nothing. I ran after you, but I lost you.”
“I was fast, despite the shoes.” My smile is faint.
“And you ran into Monty.”
“Isn’t he wonderful?” I ask with a dreamy smile. “My new best friend.”
“Don’t tell Sylvie that. She’ll be jealous.” The answering smile on Whit’s face is a surprise.
“No one could replace Sylvie. But I adore Monty.”
“He’s ruthless.”
My lips part in surprise. “He’s sweet.”
“If he likes you. Or respects you,” Whit says. “We’ve had a tentative relationship since we were children. I’ve always been wary of him.”
“He’s enamored with you. Called you, and I quote, ‘exquisite,’” I tell Whit, laughing when I see the scowl.
“He would say something like that,” he murmurs, his expression thunderous.
“He’s not wrong. He also mentioned you have beautiful bone structure.” Feeling daring, I touch Whit’s cheek. “And he’s right. You do.” My fingers drift down his face. Across his mouth. “An aristocratic face. I see why your parents are so insistent you marry well. You have to keep up the appearances with a beautiful wife. You two would need to make equally beautiful children who look the part.”
“Fuck that.” He grabs my wrist, keeping my fingers on his lips. “I don’t care what they think.”
It’s all lies. He cares. Too much. It’s his family name. His legacy. He doesn’t want to disappoint them.
Whit parts his lips, his fingers loosening around my wrist as he draws my fingers into his mouth. “I don’t like it when you run away from me,” he admits.
I watch him, completely transfixed. The flicker of his tongue as he curls it around my finger, his eyes only for me. Something deep inside me catches fire and I let out a shaky breath as I keep my focus on his face. His mouth.
His beautiful, terrible, wonderful mouth.
“You want to leave?” he asks, his deep voice wrapping all around me. My breasts feel heavy and my core throbs at the promise in that question.
“What about Sylvie?”
“I’ll text Spencer. Tell him to bring her home.” He drops my hand and leans in, his mouth brushing against mine as he speaks. “Let’s go, Savage.”
Thirty-Eight
Summer
Of course, I agree to leave. I’m so caught up in him, there’s no way the word no could pass my lips. I follow after him as we go in search of a door. We stumble upon Sylvie, who’s cozied up next to Spence on an oversized chair, her legs draped over his, his hand low on her back, almost on her butt.
He shifts his hand upward when he spots us.
Whit stiffens and comes to a stop, watching them carefully. “Bring my sister home, will you?”
“Of course.” Spence nods.
Sylvie smiles and stretches like a cat, blatantly rubbing her body against Spencer’s. “Where are you two off to?”
“I’m going to fuck Summer in the back of the car, Syl, and we were hoping for a little privacy,” Whit answers, his tone completely serious.
Sylvie laughs. “So naughty.”
I say nothing. I just let Whit escort me through the house. Outside. To the car. He pulls me into the back seat, so violently, I crash into him and he pins me beneath his big body, his face in mine.
“I’ve already fucked you in the car,” he murmurs as he runs his mouth down the length of my neck. “And what I have in mind can’t happen back here.”
Anticipation races through my veins, leaving me hot. Curious. “What do you want to do to me?”