Page 11 of Undisputed Chaos
With each step, the knife in my belt brushed against me, a comforting weight and a reminder that I was always armed, always dangerous, always ready for whatever the night might bring.
The crowd parted for me like I was splitting the fucking Red Sea, unconsciously giving way to the apex predator in their midst.
I slid behind her, drawn by some invisible thread that felt like fate and tasted like destiny.
She didn't notice me, still lost in her private concert, her round hips moving in a gentle rhythm that did dangerous things to my self-control.
This close, I could smell her—something sweet and clean that made me want to bury my face in her neck and find out what other secrets she was hiding.
"You're gonna spill that, angel," I murmured, leaning down, my breath ghosting over her ear.
She startled like a deer sensing a wolf, her whole body tensing as my hands found her hips, thumbs pressing into the softness with just enough pressure to let her know she wasn't going anywhere.
She inhaled sharply, her pulse jumping beneath her skin, and I could practically taste the sudden awareness of exactly how much trouble she was in.
"I'm okay," she whispered, voice sweet but uncertain as she tried to turn, probably to see which idiot had put their hands on her.
I held her in place, savoring the way she stilled under my control. "You sure? Seems like you need someone to hold you up."
Her head tilted slightly, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat in a gesture so unconsciously submissive it made hunger claw at my insides like a caged animal.
FuckingGod, she was a natural. She probably had no idea what signals she was sending, how perfectly she was presenting herself like a gift I hadn't even asked for yet.
When I finally let her turn, I got my first real look at her face—beautifully heart-shaped, with full lips and dark blue eyes that widened when they met mine.
It was like she’d realized she was staring into the face of the devil himself.
Blood rushed south with punishing speed. I was instantly, painfully hard. The kind of arousal that bordered on torture in tight jeans.
Her body was everything my hands had been made to hold—soft where I was hard, yielding where I was unyielding, curves that fit perfectly against my angles.
"Oh," she breathed, gaze slowly traveling up my chest to my face, then back down to where my hands still gripped her hips.
"Oh," I echoed, letting my smirk widen. The music shifted to something slower, more sensual, and I used the opportunity to pull her closer.
"What's your name?"
"Isla," she answered, the word nearly lost in the music.
Her breathing quickened, those generous curves rising and falling in a way that made me want to rip that dress off her body and see what other treasures she was hiding.
There was a dusting of freckles across her collarbone and shoulders that disappeared beneath the neckline, and I found myself desperate to trace their path with my tongue until I'd mapped every single one.
"Isla," I repeated, tasting the syllables. It suited her, something angelic and soft. Something I wanted to corrupt.
"I'm Adrian."
Her eyes flickered over my tattoos, curiosity and something else, something hungrier, in her gaze.
"Adrian," she echoed, and the sound of my name on her lips sent a jolt straight through me.
"Are you always this forward?" she asked, a hint of curiosity beneath the breathlessness.
I laughed, low and warm. "Only when I see something I want." My thumb traced circles on her soft hip, feeling her shiver through the thin fabric of her dress.
"And I want you, Isla."
The flush that crept up her neck was fucking beautiful. She bit her lower lip, a habit that made me want to do the same, but harder.
