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“You don’t even know me!” I screamed at his back.
He cackled loudly and obnoxiously, making me double down on my efforts to get away from him. “I don’t need to.” He glanced at me again. “What else you got?”
“How about no? N-O, asshole. Heard of it?” I snapped.
When Rowdy didn’t answer or slow his pace, I panicked. It was the only explanation for why I lifted our hands and savagely dug my teeth into the skin around his wrist until I tasted blood.
“Yoooo!” Finally, Rowdy stopped walking and turned to face me with wide eyes.
Holding his bewildered gaze, I turned my head to the side and spat out his blood coating my tongue before baring my bloodied teeth at him. “I saidno.”
Rowdy didn’t reply as he looked down at his bleeding wrist and my teeth marks now deeply embedded in his skin. Slowly, his gaze rose, pausing at the sight of his blood on my lips and then meeting mine.
A moment later, I yelped when he shoved me against the building’s wall. My back smarted from the impact, and then all I knew was the heat of his strong body inflaming my skin and melting my brain when he used it to hold me in place.
His body…and his hand holding mine. Rowdy still hadn’t let it go—as if our tenuous connection had been worth the pain and bloodshed.
Rowdy pinned our hands against the brick wall, and I screamed again when he lowered his head and sunk his teeth into my wrist. A whimper tore out of me when I felt the skin break, and then warm liquid trailed down my arm. Only then did Rowdy lift his head.
And then he rudely spat my blood on my clean white sneakers.
The rest had stained his lips red, but he didn’t seem to care as his cold gaze met mine.
Neither of us spoke.
We merely existed for the intense stretch of a moment that passed afterward.
Rowdy seemed to read every one of my thoughts.His green eyes—a delightful compliment to his peanut butter complexion—tracked every heave of my chest, my tongue nervously flicking over my dry lips, and even the sweat that pooled between my breasts despite the forty-degree temperature outside.
“If you want me to believe you don’t want to be fucked,” he told me in a tone that promised sex, “you’re going to have to lie better than that.”
I had two warring reactions to that. My skin turned cold with dread, but my pussy…
It opened like a flower that answered only to him.
And then Rowdy was forcing me away from the wall and toward whatever dark and private place he’d been luring me to.
Nope.
This was not happening.
Fucking my new boss on my first day, or any day, was not an option, no matter how tempted I was to give in like he seemed so sure I would. If the Kings found out why I was really here, I was pretty sure they’d kill me, and the lion of Idlewild would be first in line.
I had to stop this.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I took his advice.
“Fourteen.”
Rowdy was frowning now when he glanced over his shoulder again. We were almost to the dumpster, the spot he was aiming for, I realized too late. Apparently, he thought it was as good as any place to fuck me. Disgust mingled with the metallic taste of his blood as I tried and failed not to be utterly and irrevocably fucking offended.
“What?”
“You asked my age before.” I lifted my chin. “I’m fourteen.”
Rowdy hissed, swore, and then snatched his hand away from mine like it was covered in whatever was causing that god-awful smell from the dumpster. I could tell he was about to curse me out for not speaking up sooner when the sound of the gate sliding open, followed by the soft purr of a sleek red Mercedes racing toward us, saved him the trouble.
The four-door coupe with a rear spoiler stopped behind us, and a frantic Roc hopped out from the driver’s seat. He was dressed for work in an open gray short-sleeve button-up with a white thermal underneath and dark blue jeans that looked too expensive to be sensible.
