Page 22 of Fury

I hand Donnie his glass, and his free hand glides around my waist. He tugs me to stand between him and the counter, just like Fury did moments ago. “Thank you for coming tonight. I loved having you there.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” I squeak, knocking the second drink back.

He places his whiskey down and runs his hands over my shoulders. “I missed having you to myself.” He nuzzles into my neck, and I feel his erection pressing against me.

“Donnie, listen,” I mutter. His kisses continue down my neck, and his hands now grip my backside, pulling me against him. “Please,” I whisper, pressing my hands to his chest and applying a gentle amount of pressure to make him stop.

“Baby, all I’ve thought about all evening is you in that dress and . . .” He catches my mouth, kissing me.

I’m almost lost to him when an image of Fury enters my head, and I slam my hands against him and push him to step back. “Stop,” I snap.

He stares wide-eyed. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk.”

“You look serious,” he notes, his smile fading.

“I feel like we’re moving a bit fast,” I begin, shifting uncomfortably.

“Too fast?”

I nod. “Yeah, you can’t just turn up here, Donnie.”

“You’re upset because I let myself in?”

“You took me by surprise.”

His eyes narrow. “Wait, do you have another man here?”

I shake my head, my eyes widening in panic. “No. No. Of course not.”

His eyes are blazing with what I think is anger . . . or jealousy. He takes off before my mind can catch up, heading for the living room. I race after him. My heart leaps into my throat because I have no idea where Fury is or if he’s still in the house. I try to grab Donnie’s arm, and he shrugs me off, causing me to stumble back. “I’ll fucking kill him,” he bellows.

“Donnie, stop,” I cry as he scans the living room before taking the stairs two at a time. I run after him. “Donnie, this is crazy.”

He slams each door back against the wall with force as he checks the rooms. When he gets to my room, he pauses, holding on to the door handle. “Last chance,” he warns me. “Tell me who he is.”

“There’s no one,” I yell, hardly believing the way he’s reacting right now.

He grabs my upper arm as he shoves the door open. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see it’s empty. Donnie pulls me into the room, glancing around like a maniac. “Was someone here?” he growls.

“No,” I whisper. I don’t like the look in his eyes as he pierces me, trying to work out if I’m lying. “You’re hurting me,” I add, and his eyes fall to where he’s gripping me hard. He releases me instantly, like he’s only just realised, and takes a step back.

“Shit. Fuck. I’m sorry,” he says desperately. “I’m so sorry.”

“You should go,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around myself. I feel sick from the adrenaline currently coursing through my body. I’m not cut out for this type of confrontation.

He suddenly places his hands on my upper arms, and I flinch. There’s remorse in his expression as he gently runs them up and down my arms. “Baby, I am so sorry. I just . . .” He turns his back and runs his hands through his hair. “I send myself crazy with jealousy.” He turns back to me, and I think I see the glistening of tears in his eyes. “I really like you, Xanthe. The thought of you with another man sends me nuts.”

“We’re not together,” I say firmly, and that dangerous glint returns to his eyes, but he shuts it down fast. “We never said we were exclusive. You don’t own me.”

“I know,” he says, holding up his hands in an appeasing manner. “I’m out of order and totally jumping the gun. But I like you, what can I say?” He shrugs helplessly.

“I won’t be with someone who lays a hand on me.”

“Baby, I’d never hurt you.”

“You just did,” I snap. “Please go.” I’m aware that I’m alone in my bedroom with a man who has the potential to lose his shit again, so I soften my features and add, “We’ll talk tomorrow when we’ve both slept on it.”

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