Page 27 of Tick Tock, Boom!

The same girl who’d purred for me. Begged for me. Sucked my fingers like they were her last meal.

And now here she was, standing in my house. Entering my world.

A fucking lie wrapped in denim and softness. My best friend's daughter. Nineteen years old. I knew she was young, but fuck, nineteen? I was nearly fifteen years older than her. A full-grown man who’d seen too much, done worse. And now I was spiraling for a girl who’d barely tasted the world. I was gonna burn in hell for this. No doubt about it.

My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it. My fists curled at my sides. I kept thinking about that night. About how she tasted. How she sounded when she gasped my name.

She must have known. She had to. But if that was the case… why the hell hadn’t she said something?

Was it a game to her?

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stalked off toward the back, needing air, needing space, needingnotto go over there and drag her into the shadows to remind her exactly who the fuck I was.

The hallway was quiet. Dimly lit. The walls here didn’t carry the same heat as the front. Just the faint hum of the building’s bones and my own damn rage.

She was sleeping inmyroom tonight and that was going to be a problem. Because no matter how furious I was, no matter how betrayed I felt...

I still wanted her.

But I couldn’t touch her.

She was off-limits in every way that mattered. Barrel’s daughter. Nineteen. Sweet. Untouched by the filth we all carried in our veins. And still, she called to every broken piece of me like she was born to fix them.

How the hell was I going to keep away from her?

Every breath she took twisted something inside me tighter. Every glance, every fucking smile sent my control slipping further through my fingers. I couldn’t have her. And wanting her was already tearing me apart.

And if she looked at me the wrong way, if she said my name like she had in that dark room... there wouldn’t be enough rules in this goddamn world to stop me.

NATALIA

The door clicked shut behind Aiyana and I was left alone in Tick Tock’s room. It was dark and silent, a little too cold for my liking.

I began to pace across the small room like some kind of trapped animal, arms wrapped around my middle, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling completely out of control. The walls were bare, there were no photos, no warmth, no sign of a man who really lived here. Just black sheets, black curtains, and the low hum of the fan stirring the thick tension in the air.

I reached for a pillow sliding it over my face and breathed in. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed me, and that heat spread down my thighs and across my core. I swung the pillow back onto the bed, turning and pacing once more.

God, what was I doing?My stomach twisted.

Tick Tock had disappeared after a few hours. I could feel his heated gaze on me nearly the entire evening and then he was gone. Didn’t even say a word to me, why would he?

Now I was stuck here, in this damn clubhouse, shoved into a corner of his world. A world I wasn’t sure I had the right to be in. I had no allies, no soft place to land, and all I could breathe in was the quiet, simmering rage he’d left behind. He'd looked so damn angry, so betrayed. Like I’d reached inside and carved out his heart, one he hadn’t wanted anyone to see.

And God help me… but he'd looked so damn good standing there in shock. The kind of good that sets your blood boiling and your thighs aching. Like violence in a cut of leather, like punishment wrapped in sex. He wore fury the way some men wore suits, perfectly tailored, unforgiving, and deadly.

The cut. The jaw. The quiet violence simmering beneath his skin. I knew he was ready to snap and burn the whole world down. His fury wasn’t loud. It was contained. Controlled.

Deadly.

He was going tokillme.

He hadn’t even touched me, and I could already feel it, the heat, the judgment, the betrayal in his eyes when he looked at me. I betrayed his trust. I’d let him touch me, take me, devour me like I belonged to him. And all the while, I hadn’t told him the truth.

He must be hating me.

My bare feet slid across the wood floors. Back and forth. Over and over. My nerves were on edge and there was no way I was going to be able to sleep with this anxiety.

Why did he have to look at me like that? Why did it still make my knees weak?

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