“Chase,” he barked.
“Yeah, man?”
“Get your ass out.” He didn’t look away from Evie. Her head bowed forward. Her shoulders hunched more. She was crying, and it was ripping him apart.
Chase coughed. “Getting my ass out.” His steps thudded for the door. A moment later, the door shut. Cole heard the flip of the lock.
He should go set the security system. He’d gotten an upgraded system for her when she’d been working at the studio with Leopold.
Go set the system. Then…
Get her.
His steps were wooden as he moved away from her. His back turned to Evie as he armed the security system, then he flipped a few more of her dead-bolts. She’d had the dead-bolts before the Wilde crew came to work their magic. He knew she’d had them because she’d been afraid that someone would come for her again.
And someone did.
His hand rose and flattened against the wood of her door. “Do you want a drink?” Or maybe several? He’d seen wine in her kitchen.
But, hell, she’d been knocked out, so wine probably wasn’t—
“That’s not what I want.”
He didn’t turn toward her. “Are you still crying?”
Silence.
His eyes squeezed shut. “That’s a damn yes, isn’t it?”
“It’s been a really bad night. So, yes, I’m crying a little bit and—”
His control shattered. He spun toward her.
Evie’s eyes widened as she stared at his face. He could only imagine how savage he looked, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
There were tear tracks on her cheeks. Freaking tear tracks. On her beautiful face. There was a bandage on the delicate column of her throat…because that bastard put his blade to her neck.
“I wish I could kill him again.” His voice was barely human.
She shook her head in a frantic no movement.
He stalked to her. His hands fisted at his sides. “But I do, Evie. He hurt you, and that drives me insane.”
“You killed to protect me.”
“I could have fucking shot him in the shoulder.” His words were guttural. His steps slow but certain. She stiffened as he approached. “I’m a very good shot, and I hit what I want.” He’d wanted the guy’s heart.
Because he tried to take mine.
She backed up until her shoulders hit the wall. Fear flashed in her gaze, blocking out all the other emotions.
“You should be afraid,” he warned. “You should have been afraid of me from the very beginning. I am not the kind of man who should ever be touching you.”
He hated the sight of the tears on her cheeks.
His hand rose and gently wiped away the tears. The moisture seemed to burn his skin.
“You’re touching me right now.” Her scent teased him.
“I want to touch you every moment.” He leaned in closer to her. “That’s part of the problem. Someone like me should never be this close to someone like you.”
Her breath hitched. “But you are this close.”
“I want to be closer.” He wasn’t holding back. Couldn’t. The wall he surrounded himself with had been shattered.
Knife at her throat.
“I want to be so close that you can’t tell where I end and you begin.”
Bastard was going to stab her in the back.
“I want to be in you, Evie. Buried so deep that I’m fucking marking your very soul.”
He was trying to take her from me.
“Because you marked mine. And now, I think you belong to me. Just like I belong to you.”
The darkness swirled in her eyes.
“When someone tries to take what belongs to me…” His voice was too rough. His whole body seemed too rough compared to hers. She’s fragile. Delicate. I need to stay away. Yet all he wanted was to be closer. “I lose my damn mind.”
She licked her lower lip.
A savage growl tore from him. “He was dead the minute he took you.”
“You don’t mean what you’re saying.”
He leaned even closer. Wanted her mouth. Was barely an inch away from it. “I have never meant anything more.” He could all but taste her. Just that one inch. One…
She surged up. Grabbed his head and hauled him toward her.
Their lips crushed together in an explosion of need and desire. Unchecked. Wild. His mouth was open, so was hers, and their tongues met in greedy lust. No care. No tenderness.
He was too far gone for that.
And she didn’t seem to want it.
Her mouth fed on his. His devoured hers. He was kissing her frantically, desperately, over and over, locking his mouth to hers. He’d been without her for too long. Had missed her for too long.
And then tonight, the bastard had tried to permanently take Evie from Cole.
Never.
He would kill anyone who tried to hurt her.
He was a monster, had always been. But, he was her monster.
His hands curled around her hips. He lifted her up, pinning her back against the wall, and her long legs wrapped around his hips. Her hands had flattened against his cheeks as she cupped his face, and she was still kissing him fiercely.
As fiercely as he was kissing her.
His dick shoved against the front of his jeans. He’d changed when they got back to her place, ditching the tux for jeans and a T-shirt. He wanted the jeans gone. He wanted her shorts gone. He wanted his dick in her as deep as it would go. He wanted her screaming his name.
He tore his mouth from hers and began to kiss a path down her neck.
Her neck.
He froze. Ice seemed to pour down his back.
“Too rough,” he gritted out. He could see the white bandage against her skin. “I’m…sorry.”
Her breath heaved in and out. Her hands slid down to curve around his shoulders. “Cole…”
He squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to let her go. Right—
“If you don’t finish what you just started, I will make you sorry.”
His eyes flew open.
“Finish,” she ordered, voice husky and sensual and designed to drive him insane. “Fuck me.”
Chapter Nine
I would kill to have her. That’s not an exaggeration. It’s the truth. What? Did you think I was the nice guy? Wrong.
He carried her into her bedroom. Evie couldn’t pull in a deep breath. She was panting, and her heart was racing and her panties were wet, and she just wanted him.
She didn’t want to think about the attack.
Or the dead man.
Or the gunshot.
Or—
No.
She wanted Cole. Wanted the wildness that came from him. Only him. Because he’d been the only one to ever make her feel this way. There was no fumbling with him. No uncertainty. There was just this earth-shattering need that blew everything else away.
He lowered her onto the bed. Put her down in the middle of the mattress. He stood to the side and stared at her as the overhead light illuminated the room.
He was big and muscled and looming. His expression was cut into hard, savage lines of desire. His eyes seemed even bluer—something that should be impossible, but they blazed with his need.
He looked…
He looked as if he could eat her alive.
He yanked his shirt over his head. Tossed it to the floor. Her gaze slid over the tattoos on his chest. They moved and seemed to undulate as she watched. So many. Twisting lines. Curves. And…