Page 97 of Point of No Return

Four months. I’ve hardly kept track of the time.

“My spite toward them has been perfectly satiated,” I cross my arms as I say it. “Now it’s just personal gratification.”

It goes unsaid:Now it’s just to spite you.

He takes a step toward me, and I realize too late that I have nowhere to go. I’m pressed against the wall with less than a foot of distance between us. “How long do you think that will last?”

He’s waiting, I realize. He’s waiting for me to tell him to stop, to back off. He’s giving me an out, should I need it. But he must not know me as well as he thinks he does. I don’t ever take the out.

“That depends.” My voice is breathless. “How long until you’re begging for a divorce?”

One moment, we’re inches apart, and the next, I’m bent over his desk. My little black dress rides up my thighs as he presses my stomach flat against the surface, lifting my ass until I can feel his cock against me. One of his hands grips my hip, pinning me in place as he presses into me.

And, godjust the feel of him, hard as steel, has me melting.

His hand trails up my side, gripping my neck and bowing my back until his breath is hot in my ear.

“I don’t beg, Charlotte.” My eyes flutter closed at the edge to his voice- the promise in it, the heat. “But keep talking. Tell me how much ofthisis spite.”

His touch is like fire, searing me at every point of contact. I can feel his chest on my back, feel his hand as it moves from my hip to the curve of my breast. He palms me through the thin fabric, and I can’t control the sound that escapes me, half-plea, half-moan.

“Skar,” I try, but the sound dissolves into smoke when he grinds against me, cupping another handful of my tits.

“Such a pretty mouth,” he husks, lips brushing the side of my neck. I flush at the praise, my entire body hot. “Keep talking and I’ll fuck the sass out of you,” he promises.

I already know that if he hiked the hem of my dress just a little higher, he’d feel the effect he has on me. I’m wet and at his mercy, desperate to feel more of him.

“Skar-”

There’s a knock at the door suddenly, and it’s like the trance is broken.Shit. I’m bent over his desk in the middle of the club where anyone could easily walk in and see.

Another knock has me straightening, but Skar’s voice is in my ear, low, strained. “I’m not done with you yet,” he promises again, moving my hair aside and pressing a searing kiss against the side of my neck.

And then his touch is gone and the cold surrounds me in its place.

I have trouble forcing myself upright, pulling down the edge of my dress so it covers my ass as Skar runs a hand through his hair, adjusting his slacks before answering the door. My skin is still flush, and I make it a point not to fan myself as Crew glances inside while quietly whispering something to Skar.

“-think she should get home. Have Aleks go with her.”

“Who let them in?” Skar is saying back, and it’s not lost on me that I don’t know who the ominous‘them’is.

“Bouncer let them in twenty minutes ago. I just spotted them.”

“Fire him. Take Charlie and get Aleks,” Skar motions me over, and though I know curiosity will likely be eating me alive for the rest of the night, I go.

Skar stops me just before I step outside. His hand raises, thumb brushing my cheek and sweeping a curl behind my ear. There’s an unreadable look in his eye- something like worry mixed with lust.

His voice is hushed, gruff. “I’ll see you at home.”

I’m too dumbfounded to respond before Crew rushes me down the stairs. We disappear into the crowd.

Chapter Forty-Three

Skar

I’m going to kill them. Thomson and Jamison were stupid enough to break my rules, to come to my club and threaten my family in the process.

Fools.Fools with a death wish.

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