Page 63 of Brutal Sin

Heat crept up her throat, soaking through her scarf.

“We’re leaving.” Bryan stared at her, demanding compliance.

Shit. He must have finally cracked the code on her not-so-subtle feelings.

“Sugar,” the cowboy started. “If you’re in trouble—”

“Trouble?” He thought she was in danger? From Bryan? Okay, so maybe the brute was clenching his fists and breathing heavier than normal, but that was only because she’d broken her promise not to fall for the commitment-phobic jerk. “No. I’m okay. This is what he’s like. All bark. Nobite.”

Bryan growled. Actually growled.

“We’re leaving,” he repeated. “Unless you want to hang around with a guy who doesn’t give you the respect of finding out what you’re drinking. But, hey—” He shrugged. “—I’m sure he’s a keeper. You’ve got great taste in men, afterall.”

She scoffed and downed half the champagne in one fast swallow. He itched for a fight—she could see it in the flash of anger in those deep blue eyes. She had no plan to leave him unsatisfied.

“My taste in men shouldn’t be any of your business.” She shoved from her stool and wobbled with the landing.

“Fucking hell.” He flung out a hand to catchher.

“Don’t speak to me like that.” She slapped his hold away and got in his face, allowing his dark, masculine scent to mess with her senses.

“Then stop doing stupidshit.”

She heard the words, and the only thing that sunk in was his protection. His authority. His claim for territory. No. The alcohol played tricks onher.

She stepped back and turned to Mr. Cowboy. “Sorry ’bout that.” She snatched her clutch from the bar and put the champagne flute in its place. “Thanks for the drink.”

The guy’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving withhim?”

Yes. No. The answer didn’t matter because she couldn’t think without freshair.

She hustled outside, her short, sharp toe steps making the support of her stiletto heels unpredictable.

“What the hell are you doing now?” Bryan followed, keeping a thankful yard of distance between them on the sidewalk.

“Leaving. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His fury tickled the back of her neck in the form of a snarl. She hated that noise. Hated it so much her pussy contracted and released enough times to mimic an orgasm.

“When it comes to you, I get nothing Iwant.”

His retort hit her like a slap across the face. She swung around, teetering again, her heels producing the same stability as cooked spaghetti. “Then what do you want, Bryan? Tellme.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest, making his jacket gape and the material of his shirt temptingly tighten over the muscles beneath.

Oh, dearGod.

The entire world conspired against her attempts to dislike him. Every time she erected blocks to combat the attraction, he’d shove them down again in one mighty Hulk smash.

“I want you to fucking listen.” His breath came in exhausting huffs. “I’m trying to show you how to find a guy who deserves you. Someone who’s going to give a shit about what you want. And the minute I turn my back you’re hooking up with CowboyBill.”

“Hooking up?” Hooking up? “He offered to buy me a drink. I declined. And he didn’t take no for an answer. I didn’t even take a sip of the champagne until you came back and inspired the need for alcoholism.”

He glared, those blue irises harsh with menace.

“Come on.” She sighed. “What’s this really about?”

“You know what this is about.” The words grated through perfect teeth, across lush, smoothlips.

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