Page 33 of Taking Denver

He brushes my hair back, the darkness of his eyes brightening, the dark brown now visible around his pupil. His gaze drifts across my face, and he runs his thumb across my bottom lip.

Why can’t he look at me like this all the time? Why can’t the light take over the dark, and then maybe,maybe,I could envision a life with him?

“I spoke to Ethan,” he says, and a chill spreads across my neck. “Get your fill of vanilla sex and try to convince yourself he’s enough. But the moment you step foot on that plane, you’re mine. Any move your little vet makes after that means I will treat him as I would any other enemy. And I’ll make you watch. Am I clear?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

He kisses me softly. “I lost you to Wyatt. I won’t lose you to Ethan.”

He leaves, the door clicking closed behind him.

Chapter 12

Ranger

Ipause outside the closed door of Denver’s room and will myself not to turn around. I refuse to allow rage and fear to consume me when I think about how I almost lost her and now I’m walking away. Temporarily, but still.

It would be easier to leave if it weren’t for the fucking vet.

Jealousy is a familiar feeling. It’s consumed me daily since Denver married Wyatt, but I thought that the intense, scorched ache of envy would ease since her husband is officially out of the picture.

It was only replaced by the desperate need to have her now before anyone stole her away again.

When did I become so fucking weak?

I’ve always assumed I was strong enough to face anything. I’d fought men; I’d fought demons; I’d fought anyone who stood in my way. I did what I had to do. For myself. For my family. For this life I’ve built.

I had always been strong.

Until I met Denver.

The day she walked into my house, I’d been standing at the top of the stairs on the phone. Denver had waited in the foyer, wearing a black funeral dress, a bag by her side. She’d tucked herhair behind her ear, feet fixed in place, obviously unsure where to go or what to do.

Axel had spoken to her first, but not because he’d wanted to. My son ignored her initially, deep in one of his teenage moods, walking by with his headphones on like she wasn’t standing there. Denver had frowned and snatched the headphones off his head.

“Are you Axel?” she’d asked.

“Yeah, and?”

“Say hello to me. I’m Denver.”

I remember smiling. Day one, minute one, and she’d made an impression. I had moved closer to the stairs to watch her, to listen to her reel off a list of questions to Axel about his life, school, and why he was so rude.

When she’d finally spotted me, I knew I’d made the right choice by offering her a place to stay. She’d stared at me, gray eyes unwavering, braver than most men because it was rare that anyone looked me in the eye. But she had. She’d challenged me from the moment she could, and she’d been good at it, too.

At Denver’s insistence, Axel had left to help with the rest of her bags, and I had walked down the stairs. She’d kept her eyes on me the whole time.

“Are you Ranger?”

“I am.”

“I’m Denver.”

Her Irish heritage had overpowered Nico’s Italian genes, and she looked so much like her mother. It was a shame because I’d hated her mother.

“I know. How long do you want to stay here, Denver?” I’d asked as if that was her choice anymore. I’d already decided she would stay as long as I saw fit.

“As long as you want me,” she’d said.

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