Part 42 (2/2)

Sticking close, maybe in case he went after Heath again, Armie said, ”She could use a little of that control you're known for.”

He'd been avoiding looking at Yvette, only because in that moment he didn't know himself. He'd fought in plenty of compet.i.tions. Fought for justice. Fought for friends.

Three years ago, he'd fought twisted f.u.c.ks who'd tried to rape Yvette, who probably would have killed her. That had been devastating. For her and for him.

But this was so much more personal, because back then she'd been a sweet girl from the neighborhood. Too young. Untouchable.

And now...now she was his.

He'd never fought for anything this important.

The second his gaze found her, standing well away from Heath's car, cradling one arm and looking lost on many levels, he had to touch her.

Had to.

He started toward her. To his surprise, she sucked it up, squared her shoulders and came to meet him halfway. When they were close, she bit her lip, undecided.

He made up her mind for her, gathering her close, his arms locking around her, holding her but mindful of her arm.

It took him a bit, but he asked, ”You're okay?”

She gave a small, jerky nod. ”I'm so sorry.”

For only a second more, he kept her against him, absorbing her scent and softness and the steady beating of her heart. But, d.a.m.n it, she had the means to set him on fire with need, and to p.i.s.s him off with confusion. Without even trying she left him undone and in pieces.

Another breath helped, one more, and by the third he could grasp sanity again.

”First,” he grated, his voice hoa.r.s.e, ”your arm?”

”I'm fine.”

His jaw flexed until his temples hurt. ”Let me see.” He tried to take her arm, but she resisted.

”Cannon.” In a hushed, breaking whisper, she told him, ”My s.h.i.+rt is ripped,” as if she'd committed a sin.

”I'll give you another s.h.i.+rt. h.e.l.l, I'll give you fifty f.u.c.king s.h.i.+rts.” Okay, so maybe sanity wasn't quite attainable just yet. One more deep breath, and more firmly this time, ”Let me see your arm.”

She ducked her face and managed to hold the pieces of the oversize s.h.i.+rt together while letting him look.

Bruises already purpled her skin, and d.a.m.n if that didn't throw a match on the smoldering embers of his temper. ”I should have broken his leg, too. Or his f.u.c.king neck.”

”No.” Her breath hitched, a little too high and thin. ”You shouldn't even be involved in this mess.”

It was the wrong thing-the worst thing-to say to him.

Stepping away from her seemed his best choice, but he only got two feet before storming back. ”I'm involved because we're involved.”

Eyes widening, lips parting, she stroked him like a mongrel dog. ”I know,” she said softly, her tone soothing, ”and I'm glad.”

Glad? She was f.u.c.king glad?

”But you don't have time for-”

”What? You?”

No answer, just a lot of flinching uncertainty. He wanted to pull back, to be what she so obviously needed right now, but he couldn't.

”s.e.x?” He tunneled a hand into her hair, anchoring her to him. ”A relations.h.i.+p?”

She blinked big, bewildered eyes. ”I don't know.”

”Well, I do.” Still feeling like a stranger in his own skin, he tugged her head back, her face up, until her lips opened for him.

Then he took her mouth. Hard.

She didn't fight him, just gasped in surprise. He sank his tongue in, stealing the sound.

Tasting her.

The wine she'd drunk, her fear.

Her confusion.

Using his free arm to arch her closer, he turned his head, consuming her, relis.h.i.+ng her small whimpers, her soft, accepting moan.

Armie clapped him hard on the back, returning him to the here and now. ”You might want to put the brakes on that l.u.s.t, Saint. Looks like you've forgotten, but you're nowhere near a bed.”

Jesus.

Cannon freed her mouth, but kept her tucked against his chest. She complied, clinging to him, maybe hiding. Ruthlessly, he crammed back the darkest parts of his rage. ”I guess I still have an audience?”

”Most of the women have fainted, but yeah, still there.”

Against his chest, he heard Yvette snicker.

No way. He leaned his head back to try to see her, but she squawked and squeezed in close again.

She'd just been through h.e.l.l. Accosted.

By Heath, and by him.

He rubbed his hands up and down her back. ”Are you hysterical?”

Her rude snort surprised him. ”Feeling a little faint myself, that's all.”

Armie chuckled.

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