Page 117 of Corrupt Me

In one swift move, he bends over the table and pulls me toward him by the back of my neck. His face is so close to mine that I can make out the different speckles of gray in his eyes.

“You’re going to be the only one to touch and have me. Got it?”

“Got it.” I don’t even try to hide my smile. “That makes it better.”

I never believed I’d be a jealous or possessive person, yet here I am. He’s so understanding, never making me question his devotion to me. That would be a total mind fuck.

“It’s only fair. I was your first, Bailey, and I intend to be the only one. No one will know you better than I do from the inside out.”

His words echo inside me, making my heartstrings vibrate with acceptance as we lean back in our seats.

I am about to sip from my strawberry mocktail when Eric slides into the booth, sitting beside me.

Hunter’s expression turns murderous. “Get up, right fucking now.”

“But why? I am her boyfriend.”

This guy is dense and has absolutely zero self-preservation skills. Any sane person would pick up on the dangerous vibe Hunter emanates.

“You were never my boyfriend, Eric,” I say, hoping he will leave already. I was enjoying my date with my actual boyfriend.

“Since when?” he asks, his arm inching behind me.

“Since fucking never,” Hunter says low, his arm shooting toward him. He grips Eric by the throat and lifts him.

Eric gurgles for air, his eyes widening so much it seems they might pop out of his sockets at any moment.

“Hunter,” I say his name softly, resting my hand on his wrist. We have drawn attention and everyone is staring in our direction. With a push from Hunter, Eric lands on his ass. He rubs his neck and stands up.

“You’ll pay for this. She’ll be mine. You’ll see,” he spits, storming out.

Hunter’s about to go after him when I step in front of him, placing my hands on his chest that thumps a wild rhythm.

“Shh, it’s okay. He’s not worth it. I’m here. I’m yours.”

Jaw set in a hard line sharp enough to cut granite, he plucks some bills from his wallet, and throws them on the table. Taking my hand, he pulls me closer to his side as he leads me out with tunnel vision. He only releases me briefly to open the passenger door and climb in his seat before he splays his hand on my thigh possessively.

The drive back to the house happens in a blur.

The moment we’re inside, Celine asks, “Wanna join us for a movie?”

“No,” Hunter says, and I offer an apologetic shrug.

She smiles under her breath as Hunter drags me up the stairs and into my room. He slams his mouth on mine, backing me into the door. I love it when he loses control, driven by his animalistic side that wants to prove a point. I am his, but if fucking me against the door will help him, then so be it.

He buries his head in my neck. “You’re bloody mine. Nothing and no one will take you from me.”

“Only yours,” I say, yanking at the ends of his hair the moment he sucks. “You’re going to leave a mark.”

“Exactly.”

Why does everything he says and does to me feel so damn good I lose my mind?

His palms glide down my sides, stopping a bit to caress my breasts before they lower, and he lifts my shirt up, discarding it to the floor.

“Mine. Just mine,” he states, unclasping my bra that slips down my arms.

I am so wet and ready for him I am drenching my thong—conditioned to want him. Naked from the waist up, he plays with my nipples, kissing, licking, and sucking on every uncovered inch. I throw my head back, desire owning me, trapping me in a fiery need.

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