Page 129 of The Contract

Just—eww.

On instinct, I jerk away. But his fingers clamp tighter, and I know the fucker just left a bruise.

“Leaving without a proper thank you?” His breath slithers against my neck. His pathetic two-inch dick grinds shamelessly against my ass.

Revulsion surges like acid up my throat.

Something snaps inside me.

Maybe I froze last time.

Caught off-guard. Easy prey.

But this time?

I’m fucking ready.

My hand slides beneath my skirt, fingertips curling around cold steel strapped to my lace garter.

One swift, vicious movement—and I spin around, blade gleaming.

A move my Da taught me.

His eyes widen, slimy arrogance draining instantly from his Jabba face.

“Touch me again,” I grit out, forcing steel into my voice despite the tremor clawing up my throat, “and I’ll skewer those pathetic chickpea balls into oblivion. Maybe roast them slowly over an open flame—really make a fucking night of it.”

His hands shoot up in surrender, feet smoothly sliding backward.

Smart move, asshole.

I jab the knife pointedly toward his zipper. “Now, I’m going that way, and you’re going anywhere fucking else. Clear?”

He nods slowly, eyes lasered on the blade.

Backing away, I thumb the button. The knife snaps shut, and the moment there’s enough distance, I bolt—shoving through the sweaty tangle of bodies, heart racing like a wild animal’s.

I’m not even out of earshot when his voice snakes through the chaos behind me.

“I won’t forget this, Riley.”

My breath catches sharply.

Wait.

How the fuck does he know my name?

Before I can move, another hand clamps down on my arm.

My whole body reacts. I nearly snap the blade back out until?—

“Riley!” Mila squeals.

She barrels into me, all limbs and laughter, knocking the air from my lungs like a human wrecking ball.

Her drink sloshes dangerously close to my face—neon pink, fizzing, smelling distinctly of tequila shot number four.

“Where the hell have you been?” she demands, swaying slightly, pupils blown wide. Her voice is pitched a little too loud, barely cutting through the pulse of music.

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