Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine #1)(20)

“Wait, you guys, I don’t know about this,” she mumbled, her eyes clamped shut as she tried to fight off a wave of dizziness.

“Come on, ’Cesca. Hey . . . what the f*ck—”

Her head sprang up at the sound of Caden’s surprised exclamation, the abrupt gesture sending her hair flying in her face and temporarily blinding her. She felt Bart’s grip on her jerk as if someone had grabbed his arm.

“Let go of her this instant, or I swear I’ll make it so you never live or work in this town again.” Bart’s grip on her jeans slackened. “Francesca, get up.”

She followed Ian’s concise instructions without thinking twice. She clambered off the table and pulled up her jeans, gaping at Ian’s furious, rigid countenance in stark disbelief.

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t reply, just continued to pin Bart with a lancing stare. After she’d fastened her button fly, he put out his hand and grabbed her forearm. She stumbled after him when he began to stalk out of the parlor. He paused in front of the dazed trio of Davie, Caden, and Justin. He seemed to loom over them like a dark, forbidding tower.

“You three are her friends?” Ian asked.

Davie nodded, his face looking pale.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”

Justin seemed to come to himself. He stepped forward as if to argue, but Davie cut him off.

“No, Justin. He’s right,” Davie said soberly.

Justin’s face turned brick red, and he seemed prepared to argue, but Francesca stopped him this time. “It’s okay, you guys. Really,” she assured Justin tensely before she followed Ian out of the tattoo parlor, her hand firmly gripped in his.

She had trouble keeping up with his long-legged stride once they were walking along the dark, tree-lined street. She really didn’t think she was that drunk, so why had the world taken on the sheen of unreality ever since she’d heard Ian’s authoritative voice ordering Bart to let her go?

“Do you mind telling me what the hell you think you’re doing?” she asked breathlessly as she trotted next to him.

“You dropped your guard again, Francesca,” he said with tight-lipped fury.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded.

He came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk, pulled her into his arms and swooped down, kissing her roughly. Sweetly. Why couldn’t she tell the difference when it came to Ian’s kisses?

She moaned into his mouth, her body going rigid before it molded against his long length. His taste and scent hit her like a tsunami of lust. Her nipples pinched tight, as if that sensitive flesh had learned to associate his taste with pleasure. He tore his mouth from hers way sooner than she’d expected—or wanted—given how hot and hard he felt.

God, how she wanted him. The blazing, obvious truth hadn’t fully hit her until that moment. She’d never considered that a man like Ian would be interested in her sexually, so she hadn’t allowed herself to fully acknowledge her desire for him.

The distant streetlight made his eyes gleam in his otherwise shadowed face as he looked down at her. She felt anger and lust resonating off his body in equal measure.

“How dare you even consider letting that unlicensed scumbag put a needle to your skin? And what kind of a little fool bares her ass to a roomful of slavering men?” he bit out.

She gasped. “‘Slavering men’ . . . Those are my friends.” She blinked, absorbing the rest of what he’d said. “Bart doesn’t have a license? Wait . . . how did you even know where I was?”

“Your friend shouted the name of the tattoo parlor loud and clear while we were on the phone,” he said scathingly, stepping away from her and leaving her flesh vibrating in protest at his absence.

“Oh,” she said slowly. She watched as he lunged across the grass to the curb and whipped open the door to a dark, sleek, very expensive-looking sedan.

She looked at him warily. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“If you choose to get in, the penthouse,” he said succinctly.

Her heart started to play a drum solo in her ears. “Why?”

“Like I said, you let your guard down, Francesca. I told you what I was going to do to you the next time you did. Do you recall?”

Her world narrowed to the glint of his eyes in his darkened face and her heartbeat crashing against her eardrums.

Never leave yourself undefended, Francesca. Never. The next time you do, I will punish you.

Warm liquid rushed between her thighs. No . . . he couldn’t be serious. She experienced a wild thought that she should run back and participate in the silly, drunken antics of her friends.

“Get in the car or don’t,” he said, his voice less harsh than before. “I just want you to know what will happen if you do.”

“You’ll punish me?” she clarified shakily. “What . . . like spank me?” She couldn’t believe she’d just uttered those words. She couldn’t believe it when he nodded once.

“That’s right. Your transgression has earned you a paddling, too. I’d give you more if you weren’t a novice at this. And it will hurt. But I’ll only give you what you can take. And I would never, ever harm or mark you, Francesca. You’re far too precious. You have my word on that.”

Francesca glanced at the lights of the distant tattoo parlor and back at Ian’s face.