Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) (30 page)

Brushing a hand through his
sandy brown hair, Marcus seems out of sorts. Was it the kiss, or is he wondering how his phone magically jumped out of his pocket?

"Of course. My phone case. Yea
h, I am a big Red Sox fan."

Seeing this as my opportunity to leave, I watch Derek make some comment about the Red Sox's current pitcher, then
I interrupt smoothly, "Always a pleasure, Marcus.” I wink at him. “Maybe I'll see you around. You might want go find your date at some point."

He laughs and reveals a softened smile that seems reminiscent of the man I met
a week ago. Maybe Marcus just wants to be loved.

"Pleasure, Alex."

With that, I scurry away, wanting to wash the ashy taste from my mouth and this grimy feeling off my skin. Marcus is a sad soul, but that doesn't mean I don't hate the sick asshole.

The warm atmosphere of the gala is a stark contrast to the bitter cold of the balcony. I realize I am trying to let out a breath that I have been holding, but when I try to exhale, I still feel infused with hot air, simmering with anger and jealousy. My world feels like it is in a tornado even though
everything seems to be resolved.

"Signal scrambler is on the phone. No-go on the e-mail, but we are done here
," Derek buzzes in my ear.

I smile, because I don't have it in me to respond, but I am happy to hear the confirmation. My throat feels like it's on fire. My lips feel dirty, and the scratchy feeling
in my esophagus burns with anger. If jealousy had a taste, I would describe it as a fireball whisky with a dry burn.

I grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and inhale the liquid to satisfy my thirst. Once the last drop is gone, I decide to focus on my earpiece once more. I have managed to zone out unwanted conversations. I didn't want to hear any of Jeremy's conversation with the witch. If I
had heard anything while dealing with Marcus, I might have exploded, pulled out my gun, and gone on a rampage.

However,
when I try to listen, I hear the hum of the party atmosphere.

I whip my body around to face the dance floor, searching for that wonderful physique, holding my breath ready to see another heart-wrenching sight, but there's nothing. Instead, I see Adessa Moradi already by Marcus's side. They are talking, and I wonder what about.

A firm grip takes hold of my hand from behind me, swiveling me around and yanking me forward.
What the ...?

I find myself having to quicken my pace to keep up with the 6'4" frame leading me with determination. Even though I am delighted at the sight of Jeremy, I still feel like I am brimming with jealousy and anger. I halt, yank my hand back, and force him to turn around to face me. I lock eyes with an
equally irate crystal-blue gaze.
Oh, so he is pissed off too, then.

I examine his tense brow, his clenched, angular jaw, and his wonderfully sculpted lips. How could I ever forget how damn pretty he is?

I speak first, but I don't want to let go of his hand. His familiarity still feels comforting. "What are you doing, Jeremy?"

His eyes blaze out of control as he looks around us for a moment, realizing that I might be speaking a little too loudly. He yanks my hand toward him, causing me to stumble forward, making our bodies press against one another. He leans into my ear, letting his lips skim over my earlobe, and his seductive tone holds all sorts of promise
. "I am fucking pissed, and I want you right now. I need to teach you a lesson."

Before he pulls away, he tugs at my earlobe with his teeth, causing everything below my waist to clench in delicious anticipation. My anger-fueled blood flames out of control with his words and his touch.

Before he is out of whispering-earshot, I say, "I'll have you know I am fucking pissed too."

I'm rewarded with a devilish grin. It's dark, mysterious
, and has me reeling for more. Jeremy is the only man who has ever commanded my attention like this, and he is the only one who has ever been able to have any sort of control over me. I revel in it.

This time he tugs my arm, forcing me to follow him, to where? I could care less.

I feign reluctance, welcoming his tightening grip

Whatever awaits me
, I can't wait.

Art & Escapades

JEREMY HUNT

I haven't the slightest idea where I am going. All I know is I need to get away from all of these people.

The number of people decreases the farther I walk down the hall. The music from the main area fades, and the sound of our footsteps echoes against the marble walls.

The atmosphere shifts as the environment does. There are no lights when I make a sharp right turn into an expansive, empty gallery. Nothing but the works of Monet and Renoir cover the walls.

The room feels far off from the throngs of partygoers, but I am not yet satisfied. I pull on Alex's hand and feel her following close behind, huffing in frustration.

There is another opening to a connecting gallery at the far end of the room. The seclusion there will suffice.

I tug on my bowtie, untying it so the ends hang over my chest. It's been choking me all night, and the longer I watched Alex with Marcus on the balcony, the more I felt my body swelling with anger, so much so that I felt like I couldn't get enough oxygen into my body. The jealousy and anger was suffocating, and when I locked eyes with Alex for that brief moment, I could feel how angry she was too, and how much she wanted to piss to me off.

I knew the stare because I give it to people on a daily basis. I just never thought I'd be on the receiving end.

Seeing that sad excuse for a man, my former best friend, have his grimy lips and hands on my girl made me practically erupt with rage. I had to excuse myself from that snake-like woman on the dance floor. Knowing that I couldn't go running to steal Alex away, I went to the nearest open bar and ordered whiskey, downing it in one gulp. I was trying to calm my nerves, and fighting the urge to go and slam my fist into his face.

I wanted her. I wanted to possess her. I wanted her all to myself in that moment.

I knew that this biological weapon deal was going to involve many things I wouldn't like, but words cannot describe my overwhelming fury. Yes, actually, fury seems to be the only appropriate word to describe the overall theme of how I was, and am, feeling.

Once I saw her free
, I knew I had to have her. I knew I had to tell her how upset I am. Hell, I needed to show her how angry she makes me, and how much I want her, all of her.

Entering the dark
and empty gallery, I yank her around and push her hard against the wall. Her clutch slips from her wrist and falls to the floor with an echoing clatter. We are so far away that I am not concerned about alerting someone to our location.

When her back slams against the marble wall, a loud
exhale escapes her lips, and she furrows her wonderful brow, revealing that adorable V between them. Her beauty entrances me, and I let my eyes take in her face and its features. Being away from her presence for even an evening has been painful, sharing her even more so.

I note and commit to memory her fresh features. Her cheeks are flushed a rosy pink, and her lips pouted in anger. I grin
wolfishly at the sight, and feel her hands push at my chest.

"Jeremy, what are you doing? Don't you have to give your speech soon?" She's annoyed, but I know she doesn't want me to let her go. It's
our favorite game, isn't it?

I press her up against the wall, pinning her with my hips, causing a moan to escape her lips, stirring my libido even more.

Suddenly, I get a flashing memory of her lips up against my enemy's, and I drive my hips harder into her, fueled by my burst of jealousy. I move so my face is an inch away from hers. "Don't worry about that. I have time. I am teaching you a lesson. You. Are. Mine." My tone is demanding and forceful.

Before she has a moment to respond
, I crush my lips to hers. She fights me for a brief moment as our teeth clash, but within seconds, she acclimates her mouth to mine, and our lips move in frantic passion. She wants me as badly as I want her. It's a refreshing realization
.

Always having to prove she has some control, it is her lips that coax mine open, and she tangles her tongue around mine, owning me, possessing me.

She pulls away, and we lock angry, heated eyes. She grits her teeth as she says, "You are mine, Jeremy."

I close my eyes, replaying her words in my head, and whisper, "Say it again."

"You. Are. Mine." Each word is a seductive staccato. Her breath is hot and humid, and I can sense its sweetness from the champagne.

I let the corner of my mouth curve upward in appreciation, and allow my lips to own hers once more. Never have those words made me so happy. I am hers, and she is mine.
Although, there is a carnal value to it. I want to be inside her. I want her. I can feel myself growing impatient.

Her hands stop pushing my chest
, and drag upward to tangle in my hair, anchoring my lips to hers. I let out a low growl.

She is perfect for me, which is actually an insane revelation.

Her hips arch up toward mine, egging me on, and I strain against my dress pants. I bring my hands up to her luscious hips, digging my nails into the fabric of her dress, aching to feel the skin underneath it. I drag my hands over her behind, squeezing as I move my lips down the nape of her neck.

"You make me so angry
." She sighs.

I slide my hands over her thigh, riding the silk material of her dress upward. I respond to her as my lips press onto the top of her breasts. "And you make me angry. I never want you near him again."

She yanks on my hair, pulling my lips away from her skin, and my eyes lock with her electric gold gaze. "I don't want you going near that woman again. Actually, not any woman, for that matter. All those woman tonight? I can't take it."

I smirk, but her stare tells me she is serious. I lean in and take her bottom lip between my teeth, sucking and tugging on it briefly before letting go to respond. "I don't think I want you near any men either. They all fall for you too easily. You're dangerous and volatile."

A sexy but eerie giggle escapes her lips, and her electric gold eyes shine in the shadows, hinting at something sinister. "Dangerous and volatile? Oh, Jeremy, you cannot even begin to grasp how right you are." She captures my lips and twists her tongue around mine, coaxing a groan from the back of my throat.

She owns me. I am in her sexual thrall, and she doesn't even know it. I am supposed to teach her, but as always, she shows me otherwise
. I am hers.

My palm makes contact with the
soft, warm skin of her thigh, and I drag my hand up toward her firm behind. I halt my progress as I encounter the thick leather band around her leg.

Pulling away briefly, her seductive smirk is gone and replaced with a bashful half-smile. "That's my gun, sorry
." She shrugs.

I want to laugh at her girlish transition
, because we both know about my distaste for any sort of firearm, but right now I am not so sure.

I pull away only far enough to see the matte silver pistol strapped to her inner thigh, and the pistol matched with her dangerous, catlike demeanor makes me reel. I find it incredibly hot. Who knew?

I press my growing erection against the apex of her thighs once again, causing another gasp to escape her lips. The sound is beyond satisfying.

"Do you have any idea how sexy you are?" I whisper in rushed breaths, my heart rate on the rise.

Her seductive smile creeps back into view. "No, but I wouldn't mind you telling me," she says. I grin. My jealousy and anger seem to be dwindling. Before allowing my lips to hers again, she tugs back my hair and whispers, "Just a second."

She reaches into her ear and lets the thumbtack-sized earpiece fall to the floor with a quiet tap. I take that as my green light and let my hands skim over the leather strap to her delicate lace panties. I rip the flimsy material away, tossing it aside. Before she can react, my hand cups her sex, and I crash my lips to hers, absorbing her moan as I press one, then two fingers into her sex. Her arousal has my lust blazing out of control. I want her. I need her. Right now.

Her hands slide down my torso to my belt.
With deft, graceful fingers, she unbuckles it, and then undoes my button and fly. She gives my erection a slight squeeze, and I cannot contain my groan as our lips devour each other.

I pull my hands away from her sex, and wrap both hands around opposite thighs, pressing her hard against the wall. I lift her off the ground, and she wraps her legs around my waist. I take hold of her behind and slam into her.

"You are mine," I whisper through clenched teeth as she pulls away to let out a moan that echoes through the empty gallery.

"And you are mine," she taunts back.

I bury my face in her neck, feeling her quivering body against mine, only able to hear the quiet, whispered gasps echoing off the art-covered walls with each possessive thrust.

I needed this. Actually, we needed this.