Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(40)
He snorted. “Yeah, at the risk of Roland kicking my ass if I step over the line.”
She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “And who’s going to tell your boss anything? You certainly don’t seem like the kiss-and-tell kind. Besides, why would this Roland care when it’s just another job for his firm? The way I see it, unless I complain about your services, there shouldn’t be any ass-kicking going on.”
She intended to say more, but he began lowering his head, and before she could catch her next breath, his mouth took hers hostage.
*
STRIKER HUNGRILY FED off Margo’s mouth like the greedy bastard that he was. It was a kiss meant to rob her of her senses, drain strength from her body and show her he was doing a lot more than just copping a kiss. He was branding her. He’d deliberately started off this way with a deep tonguing that had her moaning. After a while he would slow things down and tease her mouth, nibble from corner to corner and lick it all over. Then he would go for hard and deep all over again.
She was wrong to think this was just another gig for Roland’s firm. Margo didn’t know him being here was personal. Probably as personal as it could get for Roland. But at the moment he wanted to eradicate Roland from his mind and enjoy this kiss. This woman. Her taste.
Why was he enjoying her so much? He’d never gotten personally involved with a client he’d vowed to protect before. Even when the women had come on to him and wanted to blur the line, he’d been firm and wasn’t having it. Then why was he having all of this and then some from Margo Connelly? How could any woman’s kiss make him feel like he was in one hell of a sensuous daze? A daze that was quickly headed toward something he needed to put a stop to right now? The red-hot passion was all too quickly igniting flames of desire. He was feeling it with every stroke of his tongue and with every countering stroke of hers.
The ringing of a phone intruded, and he inwardly muttered a curse. However, this time it wasn’t his phone responsible for the untimely interruption but hers. He broke off the kiss. Who would be calling her at this hour? And why? She’d spoken to her uncle earlier, so who else would be calling? Was it a suspicious call like the one she’d gotten last week?
As if she remembered that particular call as well, she nervously licked her lips before pulling the phone from her jeans pocket. From the expression on her face, he had a pretty good idea who the caller was, even before he’d made the connection with his phone.
“Scott? Why are you calling me?”
“I’ve been listening to the news. Are you okay?”
Striker frowned. Had he known Margo had been part of the jury and was in danger? From the look in her eyes, she was wondering the same thing.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Because of that crazy man going around killing folks in your town. It’s all over the news. I heard his intended targets are people who were in the courtroom of some trial, but I think you should leave Charlottesville just to be on the safe side. He might get trigger-happy and start shooting innocent bystanders.”
So he didn’t know she’d been part of the jury but had called out of concern. Maybe Scott Dylan wasn’t as big of an asshole as Striker had thought. He quickly dismissed that assumption upon hearing the man’s next statement.
“I’d be glad to send you money for a flight but only if you make your destination my doorstep. I miss you, Margo. I need to see you. It’s been a year. You can’t be making too much money designing those gowns. I got another promotion recently and—”
“I don’t need your money, Scott.”
Striker shook his head. So the asshole still didn’t know how wealthy Margo was. Striker knew he should hang up the phone and let them talk privately. After all, Scotty was her concern, not his. But something made him hang on. He refused to think it had anything to do with jealousy.
“Of course you need my money,” Scott said. “Granted, you’ve never asked me for anything, but you’ve always known it was there if you needed it.”
With a price tag on it, no doubt, Striker thought as he leaned against the desk in the room. What a wuss. Didn’t he know most women didn’t appreciate a man making them feel dependent?
Margo shot him a dark frown before saying to him, “This is a private call. Do you mind?”
Instead of answering her, he merely gave her an even darker frown.
“Margo?” Scott interrupted, reclaiming their attention. “Who are you talking to? Is someone there with you?”
“That’s not any of your business, Scott,” she snapped. “You aren’t supposed to call me anyway.”
“I have every right to call you. I didn’t break things off with you. You broke things off with me.”
Striker shook his head, wondering if the man had actually heard what he’d just said. Was Dylan such a simpleton that he didn’t realize that when a woman broke off with a man, it meant the man no longer had a right to call? Shit, it meant he’d lost any rights.
“And I broke things off for a reason, or have you forgotten that?” Margo said angrily.
Instead of answering her question, Scott said, “I want to know who is there with you, Margo.”
“That’s none of your business, Scott.”
“You are my business. You need me.”
Striker thought he should go ahead and release the line before he was tempted to tell the prick a few not-so-nice things. Dylan was Margo’s problem, and by rights, Striker knew that he should stay out of it and let her handle her business. Scott Dylan wasn’t a threat. Not a real one. Striker decided there was no reason he should be listening in on her call. He was about to get off the line when Dylan’s next words stopped him.