Page 100 of My Rose

He looked down at my bare feet, then smirked as his eyes lingered up to mine. “You planning on going barefoot? I thought you learned.”

I scowled. “Of course, I’m not going barefoot.”

He jutted his chin toward our bed through the doorway. “Go sit.”

“No.”

“Rose.Go. Sit.”

I scrunched my nose. “What if I don’t want to?”

His smirk turned into a wicked grin, and before I registered what he was doing, he scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder.

“Hey!”

He smacked my ass as he walked to the bed and set me down, just as he told me to do.

“I love that mouth of yours, but if you keep opening it to tell me ‘no,’ I’ll have to shove my cock in there until all you can scream is ‘yes.’”

I swallowed, my thighs squeezing together at the thought. Briggs disappeared into our closet and then reappeared with a pair of black, strappy heels. When he sank to his knees and took my ankle in his hands, I shivered. Briggs’ eyes were hooded as he stared up at me from the floor, then kissed the top of each foot before strapping the heels on. When he was done, he stood and prowled over me, kissing my forehead sweetly before tugging me up by my hands.

“Now, you’re ready.”

I’d never been in a limo before or any car that had custom seats with someone’s last name written out like a logo. Technically, I suppose it was a logo. I wondered at what point Briggs would think I needed to know about his family’s business more than I did. As of right now, seeing VanAndrews scrawled across black leather was about as invested as I’d ever been.

After hearing about what he’d done to people in the name of business, I was starting to think he preferred it that way.

I played with my thumbs, sitting beside Briggs but feeling a tight coil forming in my gut like he wasn’t there at all. He patted his lap and cocked a brow at me. “Come here, baby.”

My shoulders fell, and I did as he said, sitting on one of his knees. He pulled me closer until my head rested on his shoulder.

“You aren’t nervous? Didn’t you say there were hundreds of people at this thing?”

He chuckled, stroking my hair. “People don’t make me nervous.”

“I’m starting to think nothing bothers you.”

His hand stilled. “Plenty bothers me.”

I pulled back to meet his gaze. “Like what?”

“For one, your friend.”

“He’s not my friend anymore. Doesn’t count.”

Briggs growled. “He’s still breathing.”

I laughed. “His breathing bothers you?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately.

Our lines of communication since the night he opened up had broadened tremendously, but at times like this, I wished he’d lie. I didn’t want to think about him hurting or killing anyone, though I knew it was on his mind often.

My fingers curled around his lapels. “What else bothers you?”

“Knowing that we have about an hour where I have to make sure you are safe around those hundreds of people.” I shivered at his words. “Are you ready to meet and talk to some people?”

“I’m actually not too worried about that. Just one person is making me a little…bothered.”

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