SILVIO ROSSI
Once again, I'd lost control. It seemed to be the pattern whenever she was concerned. An pattern that was slowly turning out to be routine, a state of mind. Something of a becoming.
I'd finally done it, touched her, gotten a little taste of her and fuck it if she wasn't the sweetest thing ever.
And the funny thing was, I'd been so terrified of touching her because I was always worried I wouldn't be able to handle it but now I wasn't sure if she could handle me. And everything that came with me.
Touching her was freeing, slipping away the little piece of armor that'd kept me from existing. When she first asked me why I cared so much about this threat, I'd planned to ignore her question or lead her to the answer with hints but the answer slipped out before I could think.
And there she was, standing in my damn clothes looking gorgeous and those big dark brown eyes staring at me. Waiting for me to do something.
I cautioned against it, my damn brain screamed at me to walk away but something tugged at my heart and before I knew it, we were separated by a inch of space between our lips. Molded together skin to skin and chest to chest.
And now the only thing stuck in my mind like a damn broken record, on fucking repeat was the sound of her little erotic moans in my ear and knowing how wet she was for me. All for me. Goddamn it to hell.
I wasn't supposed to touch her. She was mine but in all earnest, I didn't have the right to touch her or crave her. And now I'd gone even further as to taste her and like an addict, I wanted more.
I'd gotten a little slice of fucking heaven and I would almost certainly kill for another taste of it.
The reality of it all hit me like a fucking blow to the jaw as I stared into the far distance, the sizzling fire in the fireplace growing with each stock of wood added to it, and it didn't seem to diminish any second.
The cool glass of whiskey against my palm eased the nerves and turmoil boiling inside me temporarily. I knew I wasn't going to feel truly sane until I saw her again and indulged in my daily fix of Presley Carmichael.
"That bad?" A deep familiar voice asked, the sound of footsteps approaching where I was sitting on the large armchair. "Funny how she always has this effect on you. I like seeing you like this no?"
A deep bellowed laughter filled the room. Beast. "It's been like three hours. What happened to him?"
Idiots.
After the incident with Presley, I left the penthouse for a desperate need of fresh air but not before making sure one of my men were stationed outside and instructed to send me an update every five minutes.
I didn't give a damn if it was typically unheard of and I was taking another muscle power from important work, all I cared about was her safety. If anything happened to her.. even a hair on her goddamn head, I wouldn't be able to bear the thought of it.
"Never seen you like this. She fucked with your head that badly?" Octavius asked me walking closer till he was standing in front of me, blocking my direct line of sight to the burning fire consuming everything in the pit almost representing the need I had for her.
Amusement touched the edge of his voice, unsettling me further. "What happened? You touched her or something?"
My eyes widened slightly and even with the small tell-tale, I knew he'd figured it out. He knew me like an open book and he knew everything abut my past and that made him one of the most important people in my life.
"Wait." Beast shifted from the edge of the poker table he was sitting on, and practically flew towards me.
From the side, I could notice that the bruises he'd gotten from my fist—and especially after the little stunt he'd pulled that night—were practically visible and I knew there was a chance Presley had seen it but I didn't give a fuck.
He knew how I felt about her, and he knew I didn't like people touching what was mine.
And then had the goddamn audacity to touch her, even went as far to offer for her to sit on his lap, almost like he wanted me to get possessive over her in the middle of dinner.
Octavius crouched down till he was eye-to-eye, examining my stoic expression and the slightly irritated expression on my face when Beast did the same. What was I? A damn patient?
"Doesn't look like you kissed her or anything so I think you'll be fine."
I scoffed to myself ignoring his comment. "Thanks doc."
"Come on, Sil." Beast grinned, the toothpick visible in the side of his cheek. He knew how I felt about that nickname. "Gotta give us something especially since I'm the biggest supporter of this relationship. Told her to take a chance on you, old man."
I inhaled a deep breath, and downed the content of my tumbled down my throat. The cold liquid rushed down my throat, reestablishing the equilibrium through my body and left me with a controlled state of mind. "There's no fucking relationship and didn't kiss her." Yet.
I'd gotten in over in my head when I grabbed her without my gloves, and pushed myself even more by touching her and everything burned. My body protested and demanded for me to step away, and I knew if I didn't, I would have done something regrettable.
Beast laughed even harder, his big body practically shaking until he had to hold onto Octavius for moral support. I hated him. "Let me get this right. You get an opportunity to kiss the little darling, and you chicken out, and then flee the crime scene and leave her back back at your house?"
I rolled my eyes before pouring myself another drink ignoring the urge to shove him face into the nearest wall. The sound of Beast cackling and his deep laughter shook through the room and I grew irritated.
I grabbed my knife out of the knife hostler attached to my hip, glanced over my shoulder, and sent the silver knife flying towards Beast, barely grazing the side of his cheek and avoiding his right eye.
With a warning glance, I downed the content of the tumbler and regained my seat on the armchair, crossing my legs as I met his gaze, silently asking for him to give me a reason to get my hands dirty tonight.
Octavius shook his head watching me with a small smile, and I knew why he was smiling. He knew me and how long this irritating desire and need for her had been going on. He'd gotten the girl—his girl and gone awfully soft.
