Page 6 of Darkness Tempt Me
“A one-night stand. If you planned on having a one-night stand, the least you could have done was set an alarm or tell me ahead of time that you were going to be late,” he snaps.
At first, I’m confused. What on earth made him think I would be sleeping with anyone? Then, it dawns on me. Carl’s muffled screams. All the blood. The cries of pain and the desperate noises he made through his gag when I answered my phone. The tone in Peyton’s voice. I release a low chuckle. “You’re jealous.”
He sputters, dropping his sandwich. “What? No, I just don’t like being left out of the loop.”
“So, you want me to tell you every time I decide to sleep with someone,” I tease. “You know, to keep you in the loop.”
He glares, and I have to refrain from reaching out and smoothing away that angry crease in his brow.Oh yeah, I lovethe way Peyton looks when he’s jealous.Like an angry little cherub with a bratty side. Regardless, I can see what he’s doing. “Stop avoiding my question, Peyton. Tell me what else has you upset today.”
He sighs. “It’s my brother, Tyler. I think you met him once.”
I tense. Peyton and Tyler are close, but Tyler has a habit of picking men who are all kinds of wrong for him. Sometimes I want to shake the boy simply because of the amount of stress he puts Peyton through.
“What did he do?” I ask carefully.
“Actually, I don’t know. He called me this morning when I woke up. He sounded off. Almost like he wanted to tell me something, but chickened out at the last minute.” Peyton sighs again. “I just want him to be happy, you know? He deserves it more than anyone.”
I don’t think I agree with that statement. “You deserve to be happy too.”
Peyton’s bright smile lights up his entire face. “Thank you. I appreciate that. But you also don’t know what we’ve been through.”
Actually, I did. One night, shortly after Peyton became my assistant, we had an overnight trip for a business meeting in New York. Fear had practically poured off Peyton in waves when he thought he’d spotted his abusive ex. Thank goodness it wasn’t, but the whole situation caused him to spiral. I found him drinking at the hotel bar later that night. He was so drunk he spilled all his secrets. His ex was an abusive cheater who beat Peyton just to make himself feel like a man. Neanderthal shit that reminded me of my father’s abuse toward my mother. To this day, he still doesn’t remember confessing all of that to me.
Peyton changes the subject, and I make a mental note to investigate his brother’s situation. Peyton deserves happinessmore than anyone, which usually starts with ensuring his brother is all right.
After we eat lunch, Peyton excuses himself to use the restroom while I get up to settle our bill with the cashier. Before I can finish paying, movement catches my eye as I spot a handsome man approaching my assistant. The man reaches over and squeezes Peyton’s arm in a familiar, flirtatious gesture. My thoughts become dangerous when Peyton smiles at the stranger with recognition. I don’t like the possessive look in the man’s eyes. An intense flash of rage surges through me. Who the fuck does this guy think he is, touching what’s mine? Peyton might not know it yet, but he belongs tome.
I imagine myself shoving the stranger away from Peyton, placing a territorial arm over his shoulder, before calmly guiding him out of the restaurant and back to my office. Slamming him against the locked door and violently grinding against him as I sucked a bruise onto his neck. His bratty little pleas turn desperate as he begs me to take him. To fuck and claim him right there at work.
“Did you need anything else?” The cashier’s soft voice jerks me back to reality. I shake my head, handing her my credit card. My mind races as I sign the receipt. Peyton appears by my side, his delicious scent floating in the air and instantly calming me down. His signature cologne of bergamot and lime mixed with something that’s purely him.
“You ready, sir?” Peyton smiles brightly, his slim fingers wrapping around my biceps for a brief squeeze. He’s so damn innocent, unaware of my murderous thoughts or the wildfire his touch ignites inside of me. The stranger is nowhere in sight.
I give a sharp nod. “Let’s go,” I snap, placing a hand on the small of Peyton’s back as I guide him out the door. I have to control this caveman act, but Peyton always evokes these primal desires. This uncontrollable need to claim him. Protect him. It’ssomething deep and obsessive. Something I can’t stop, and it’s probably something I just need to embrace. I’ve killed for Peyton once before, and I’d be willing to do it again.
Chapter four
Peyton
An echo of heat tingles on my lower back, where Mavik’s hand rested earlier as he guided me through New Vernon’s crowded streets. Although I’m an expert at getting around this city, I didn’t shrug away from Mavik’s possessive touch.
Okay, perhaps I’m projecting, wanting his touch to be possessive and that heated gaze in the diner to be real, but damn, dominant men have always been my weakness.
By the time we made it back to Blackwood Investments, my imagination had gotten away from me. Thoughts of work were replaced with images of my boss taking me in the elevator, dominating me with filthy commands and the rough touches I secretly crave.
Yeah, definitely not work-appropriate.
I ended up rushing out of the elevator and making a beeline to the restroom just to hide the evidence of my arousal. Several minutes later, after splashing my face with water, I was finally good to go.
Trying not to obsess over my dirty daydreams or Mavik’s strange behavior, I bury myself in work and emails until the end of our workday. Mavik must have left early because there was a text waiting for me as I passed his office and said goodbye to my coworkers.
Mavik: Thanks for today, Peyton. You did a brilliant job with the reports. And thanks for earlier, at lunch. It’s nice to see your smile.
My body vibrates with excitement over his praise. God, could I be reported if I replied by saying how nice it was to see him smile, too?
Peyton: I’m always smiling, sir.
To my shock, Mavik replies quickly.
