Oaths and Omissions (Monsters & Muses #3)(21)
Fingering the pendant on my bracelet, I consider his points. “And what if I decide to just kill Tom Primrose, once and for all?”
“I trust you’ll make it untraceable.” He shrugs. “Get the public support first, and you can do whatever the fuck you want afterward.”
This time when she shows up at my pub, I’m fully prepared to indulge in her presence. Everything happened so quickly the other night that I didn’t get to appreciate what her being in my midst really meant.
For some reason, even though she was possibly roofied the last time she came, Lenny shows up alone again. As I watch a weekend bouncer stamp the back of her hand on the security monitor from my office, I doubt she even has an actual bodyguard in the first place.
When I look her up online, I’m met mostly with pictures of her and her father, darting to and from events. His arm is always around her shoulders, as if afraid she might float away, and she always has a bright smile plastered on her face and a hand lifted in greeting.
Fucking greeting the slimy paparazzi.
My chest winds tight as I continue through the gallery of photos, annoyed by Tom’s face in so many. The spinning ceases altogether when I get to those of her attending red carpets and cozy restaurant dates with some preppy-looking douche.
Something akin to rage spirals through me, shooting through my veins like white-hot flames, and I keep clicking through, seeking an end. Both to the two of them together—his hands on her hips, her neck, the underside of her breast where they definitely don’t fucking belong—and to the insane, fiery sensations zipping through my bloodstream.
I wasn’t putting her on when I said I don’t date. My adult life leaves very little room for such adventure, and I find most people so dreadfully bland that the idea of keeping their company makes me want to blow my brains out.
It shouldn’t be any different when it comes to Lenny Primrose, and yet I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s occupied the majority of my thoughts since I found her on the balcony at her family’s party, and even though I’m pretty sure something is off with her motivations, the desire to find out for myself takes precedence.
When a random patron approaches her as she makes her way to the washrooms, I push out of my desk chair and head out front. Violence thrums against the ventricles of my heart, and I locate her immediately, glaring as the wide-shouldered frat boy traps her between himself and the wall.
Rational thought doesn’t register in my mind as I reach the two. My actions are driven entirely by primal instinct, some natural resistance to other people toying with the things that belong to me.
Bloody hell. I don’t entertain that notion, grabbing her wrist and tugging her into me.
“Hey, man,” the frat boy complains, his eyebrows drawing in as he turns with her. “We were having a conversation, dickhead.”
“And now you’re not. Find someone else’s girlfriend to snog before I beat seven shades of shit out of you.”
Lenny’s eyes widen as if in question, and I wish I had an answer for her. Wish I could explain the sudden need I have to make known that she’s here for me, even if they don’t know it’s pretend.
My hand slides up the column of her neck, my thumb pressing beneath her chin while my fingers curl into her soft flesh. It’s demented, this urge, but I’m in too deep now to stop it.
When I lean down and press my lips to hers, the entire background of the pub seems to melt away. My tongue prods the seam of her mouth, and it opens on the softest sigh, beckoning me to explore.
And right then, I know.
I’m fucked.
10
Okay, Len. Don’t panic.
Everything is fine.
So, a psychopathic assassin has you pressed against the wall of his bar while he defiles your mouth in ways you didn’t think were possible anymore.
That’s not cause for concern, right?
Especially since his lips are incredibly soft, and he tastes like bittersweet candy.
Jonas wrenches himself from me as soon as the lurker with a bad crew cut scampers off, tail tucked between his legs. His large fingers twist in the strands of hair at the base of my skull, somehow keeping me close and distant at the same time.
My body hums, dissatisfied with the loss.
“First thing you should know,” he says, or breathes, rather. Like the kiss we just shared dragged the air from his lungs the same way it did mine. “I don’t share. Ever.”
See, Len? Already off to a better start than you were with Preston.
Even as his words send frissons of heat through the chambers of my heart, I can’t help but poke the beast anyway.
“Ever?” I bat my lashes, feigning innocence. “That’s a shame.”
His eyes narrow, shifting from that unique violet to angry blue. They’re electrifying, impossible to look away from, and I momentarily consider the mistake I’ve made involving him.
I’m way in over my head, and I think Jonas Wolfe might capitalize on that.
One of his thumbs catches on the swell of my bottom lip, and he plucks against it like a musician tuning his favorite instrument; slowly, deliberately. As if he’s the only one who knows the right pitch.
“The only sharing I’m interested in when it comes to you, is ensuring my cock gets as much time with your cunt as my lips. Believe me, love, when I say you won’t require more than that.”