She takes a step toward me, my fingers sink more into her hip in a possessive hold. “Mallory,” she says. Then I watch as pink hits her cheeks. Her eyes move past me, and I follow them once again to Paige, who’s still with Ryan. She taps her watch at Mallory, making me clench my jaw because I know what’s coming. She’s leaving. First I didn’t want her in this place, and now I don’t want her to leave. I want a little more, but I remind myself this is only the beginning.
“Are you leaving?”
She looks back up at me and gives me a disappointed smile. “It appears so.”
“Give me your number,” I say in a rush. I already have it. Hell, I have fucking tracking on her phone, but I want the go-ahead from her to finally text her.
She looks around hesitantly, like she’s trying to come up with a good excuse why she shouldn’t.
“If I ask your friend over there, will she give it to me?” I test her, wanting to know what she’d say. I know Paige made sure men didn’t bother her, but for some reason I find myself wanting to test it. To know for sure.
She glances over at Paige and back to me with a smug smile on her perfect face, her little button nose scrunching a little. God, she’s fucking perfect. “Not a chance.”
I reach into my pocket, pulling my phone out anyway. I’m getting her number before I walk out of here. I have to have it now. There’s no way I can go another day without talking to her. Or at least knowing that I can.
She lets out a cute little huff, before rattling off her number as I pretend to put it into my phone. Paige comes up next to us as I put it away. She looks between the two of us before dismissing me like she doesn’t know who I am.
“You ready?” she says.
“Yeah. I’m right behind you,” Mallory tells her, and Paige walks toward the entrance. Mallory turns to me, and I reach out, needing to touch her one more time tonight, because I’m not sure when I’ll get to again. I run the edge of my knuckles along her jaw. I never knew skin could feel so soft. I’d bet everything I have that all of her feels this way.
“I wanted more,” I whisper to myself.
Mallory stands there, staring up at me like she can’t pull herself away either, and I wonder if she feels it, too. What I felt the first time I laid eyes on her. That I’d found what I’d been looking for my whole life. Something I didn’t even know I was looking for to begin with.
“She’s waiting,” I finally say, nodding toward Paige, who’s got one shoulder propped against the wall watching us, her eyes narrowed on me.
I reluctantly drop my hand and take a step back. I have to make myself, or I’ll never let her go. Slow, I remind myself. We’ll have her soon. I force a smile as I watch her turn and disappear.
I pull out my phone and text Ryan.
Me: Follow them home.
Ryan: Already on it.
When I slide into the back of my car, I can’t stop myself from texting her.
Me: You tasted sweeter than I ever imagined.
It feels like forever before she finally texts me back, but in reality it was only a second.
Mine: What do I call the man behind the curtain?
I feel myself smile.
OZ.
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HIS ALONE,
available March 28, 2017 from Carina Press
Prologue
Ryan
Six years ago...
I sit in the metal chair feeling uncomfortable. I do better on my feet. I wish I could at least have my back to a wall, but this isn’t my place, so I do as I’m told. I sit calmly and keep my breathing even, glancing around the room casually, making sure I show nothing. I have one goal here today and it’s to get as close as possible to the man I’m about to meet. Going deeper underground than I ever have before—something I’m not sure I want. This might take me a further down than I’m prepared to go.
We’re in a back room of a restaurant in uptown Manhattan, and it’s clearly used for privacy. There are two men at the far wall, standing next to an exit, and two men behind me guarding the way I came in. They both look like muscle; they’d be easy to handle. Too dumb to see what’s coming. Directly in front of me is a small metal table and chair. I hear a click behind me. The door opens, and someone walks through. I wish for the hundredth time that I had my gun on me. I feel naked without it. I know I can defend myself without it, but I like feeling the weight of it against me. And often, someone seeing the hint of it can deescalate a situation. But they took it from me when I walked through the door, so now I have to deal with it.
The man who walked in takes a seat at the table and leans forward. He’s in an expensive suit that looks custom-made. The men around him are dressed similarly, myself included. When you’re in this line of work, looks are everything. Even more so for a man like this. Money means everything to him. Money and power.