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Another ping reverberates throughout the room, and I’m beyond grateful to ignore that little voice inside my head.
A wolf who isn’t hiding his hunger. ~Unknown
My stomach clenches and toes curl with that simple response. I also find myself typing back without hesitation, a smirk on my lips.
Should I be afraid of the big bad wolf? ~Mariah
A minute passes and nothing. Then another. And just when I’m ready to toss the phone aside, annoyed that he didn’t respond to my taunt, a message comes in.
I’m going to eat, bite, and make you scream my name. ~Unknown
Christ, I shiver. The undisguised hunger—the unadulterated want gives me a high I’ve never encountered before. Not at this level. This feeling of euphoria mixed with danger that I need to chase and conquer. Push a little further no matter how wrong this could end.
His fire might destroy me.
Is that a threat~ Mariah
It’s a promise, Muñeca. ~Javier
And then an attachment pings on my device, and I click the link like an idiot. Like the in-lust little girl I am.
The picture’s a close-up of his mouth and chin with day-old stubble across a lickable, defined jaw. Then there’s the way he bites his bottom lip, teeth embedded into the corner, making him smirk in a way that causes goose bumps to rise across my skin.
I feel feverish. Excited.
I’m in trouble.
Can you catch me? ~Mariah
You’ll always be within my reach. ~Javier
This man is going to drive me to the point of instability where people snap, and reactions have costly consequences.
Like now; this is stupid. A bad choice on my part.
The beginning of what can only be described as my fallout.
And why? Because I’m sitting on the grass against a building my cousin owns with a vast field in my direct line of sight. I’m here to watch him exactly five days from my demand to be left alone. For him to respect my boundaries when I didn’t follow the same protocol.
I can’t seem to stay away. I keep trying to find ways to get close.
During meetings. During his two p.m. coffee break.
“He’s going to think I’m certifiable.” He’s no saint, either. Which is true, and his smirk while dropping a handful of Hershey’s kisses atop my desk on his way to his office, Cafe Con Leche in hand, tells me as much. Javi is enjoying my indecisiveness, which aggravates me.
It’s a vicious cycle of hot and cold, and I’m screwed.
He also knows I’m here; knew the very moment I sat down and my eyes wandered down his tattooed upper body. I saw the small shiver rush through him. I saw the way he tilted his head in my direction, the flex of his pecs while he addressed those here today for training.
This group is new. All men that have come with some level of vouching by associates to Malcolm.
Moreover, he’s aware of my small and newly discovered fetish. Watching him put men on their knees, crying out in pain while tapping out, is something I find sexy. Extremely. Almost obsessively.
The way he stands in front of the guards, no shirt on, and demanding they follow through with the new moves he’s shown them; a mixture of boxing meets mixed-martial arts, and each segment follows a new technique.
It’s a little chaotic. The moves are meant to cause harm, and yet, I’m salivating as he takes the youngest in this bunch to the center where they’ve put a large mat over the grass and squares off.
Sweat glistens across his chest.
