Ruckus (Sinners of Saint #2)(60)

I felt my pulse in my eyelids. My spine. My fucking balls. It was everywhere, because my heart was jackhammering like it wanted to jump out of my ribcage and into her hands. It felt like snorting two lines of brown-brown, the gunpowder rushing through my system.

For the first time in a very long time, I cared.

Breaking them up and causing a scene crossed my mind, but I wasn't that person. I was the chilled, asshole motherfucker who smiled at the world, even when it threw shit at him. And Rosie threw shit at me because I deserved it. Because I did kiss her sister when she was in the same house. Because I didn't stop it from happening. Because it was payback, and she wanted to take it far. I was going to let her explore the distance, even if it hurt me-but the line was going to be drawn at kissing. She was fucking mine. He could look, but hell if he tried to touch.



       
         
       
        

The guy spun Rosie around and they danced together, but she kept an appropriate gap from him, probably knowing he wasn't going to appreciate a trip to the ER. Dude was okay-looking, I suppose. Mid-height and young-about Rosie's age, casually dressed. Nothing to write home about.

He yelled something into her ear over the music, and I felt my nostrils widening like a mad bull. She motioned for him with her fingers to wait a minute, looked down, and typed a message.



Rosie

How does it feel?



It felt like death. But that fire in her eyes looked fresh. Too fresh to only be about me. There were other things occupying Rosie's mind. Family-related things. I knew that, and this time … this time I was going to be the punching bag. Fuck, how I wanted to feel her little fists all over my body.



Dean

Point made. Now stop it.



She didn't answer.

And she didn't fucking stop it.

My eyes traveled up and the fuckwit took her hand, leading her to the back door of the club. I looked around. All of our friends were still busy dancing, drinking, and generally not giving two shits. My plan to corner Rosie backfired in my face in spectacular fashion.

Because Rosie wasn't Millie. Rosie couldn't be cornered.

Rosie was never the prey. She was, at times, the motherfucking hunter.

I used every ounce of self-control in my body to stop myself from running after them. No, I sauntered. Cool. Unnerved, pushing bodies, and stepping on feet on my way to the door that led out to an alleyway at the back of the club. I moved past darkness, through saturated lights. Yellow, green, red, and purple twirling together. They probably looked beautiful if you were drunk, but I wasn't. And when I finally poured myself out into the static, hot air of Las Vegas, I stilled.

Her back was pressed against an exposed brick wall and he was hovering next to her, his lips inches from tasting what belonged to me.

"Back. The. Fuck. Up," I hissed, ambling in their direction. They twisted their heads, and I think Rosie saw the smoke coming out of my ears, because she took a visible gulp and placed her palms on his chest as a barrier.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was hoarse. "He's a jealous ex. Not my ex, but he didn't get the memo yet."

Evidently, Mr. Prop here didn't want to be the one to give it to me. The guy looked like he peed his pants, and I had to remind myself that he was just a means to an end for her. Poor bastard.

"I'll take it from here." I slapped the guy on the shoulder a little too hard. He looked between us, his mouth falling open. He wanted to know that it was okay to leave her with me, but at the same time, hoped that it was, because I still looked every inch of a quarterback monster who only answered to the words 'God' and 'Daddy'. 

Rosie nodded, clearing her throat. "Sorry, Adam. Enjoy the rest of your night."

"Planning to," Adam said, turning around and walking away, his steps becoming faster as he approached the door.

I pinned Rosie to the wall, this time not giving a damn about her stupid-ass rules, and grinded my body slowly against hers. I had a throbbing erection, and it pressed against her navel, demanding her attention. She arched her back and got on her tiptoes, chasing our touch, her mouth asking for mine.

"Adam?" I quirked a brow, pulling my face away. Two were going to play this game, at least until she realized there was no game. This was real.

"Nice dude." She still stared at my lips, her breaths labored, and not from her stupid illness.

I boxed her with my arms, my lips hovering over her shoulder.

"I'm glad you think so, because he just cost you an orgasm."

She moaned, dragging her teeth over her lower lip when my hand slipped inside her panties and grazed her wet slit.

"I need a distraction tonight." She jerked me closer. "I need your help."