Insatiable (The Edge of Darkness, #1)(69)

I order a vodka as a young man in a fitted black suit, his golden hair styled to perfection, appears beside me; he smiles as he gives me a second glance, leaning against the bar and looking me up and down.

I thank the bartender and sip my drink through a straw, ignoring him.

“Gerald,” the guy says in his strong American accent. “This lady’s drinks are on the house.”

I nearly choke. “What? No.”

“I’m the owner. Someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t be paying for drinks.”

My brows rise. “And why would you do that? ”

Shrugging, he drags his gaze up and down the length of my body again. “I’m a nice, generous person.” He winks and takes his drink before he vanishes onto the dance floor.

A firm hand lands on my hip, sending instant flutters down low as a familiar voice whispers in my ear, “You need to stop flirting with my half-a-million-dollar target.”

I don’t turn around, but I do tilt my head a little, my eyes on the owner of the club, who’s now laughing with a group of girls. “He’s worth half a million?”

My breathing stops as he pulls my back to his chest, the slit of my dress giving him access to skin-on-skin contact as he moves his hand lower. “The more dangerous, the more I get paid.”

I stare at the guy bobbing around the dance floor with a goofy grin. “He doesn’t look dangerous.”

His chin rests on my shoulder, and my gaze shoots to the booth Lu was at, but she and Base aren’t there.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Kade says, his knuckles running up and down my ribs, the other hand dangerously close to an area that’s currently puddling with liquid heat as he drags his fingers along the slit of my dress, sending electric shocks to my core. “Stay away from him. I need to do my job and I don’t need you getting in the way.”

I gulp. His touch is soft and caressing as the laser show from the DJ booth amps up through the intense song playing.

Breathless, I manage to turn my body to break the contact, looking up at him as I reply sternly, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Kade laughs, pushing his tongue against his cheek. The smile on his face has my skin buzzing. “But you take orders so well,” he says, rubbing a tendril of my dark hair between his fingers. “Don’t you, Freckles?”

“Don’t call me that.” I furrow my brows at him, ignoring the growing pulse between my legs. “And you tell me: do I follow orders well, Kade?”

Flirting with him like this – well, our version of flirting – is ridiculous and stupid. Luciella could appear at any moment and see our closeness, the way Kade releases my hair and cups my cheek with his hand, leaning into my opposite ear.

“It was one of my favourite things about fucking you.”

The hum in my blood, the nerves catching fire like an inferno, has me fighting the slam of my thighs. Against the neediness between my legs, remembering all the shitty comments he’s thrown at me, I move his hand from my face. “If I remember right, you were the one who had to be given directions on how to get a girl off. Stop belittling what I was in our relationship to make yourself look better.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “These tantrums you keep having are cute.”

“Cute? No, you’re a walking, talking version of whiplash. One minute you act like you hate me, then you’re trying to have sex with me or messaging me. You can go hump your hand for all I care.”

Then a smile plays on my lips, because I want to piss him off, to push him as much as he’s pushed me over the last two years. “I’m going to go over there and dance with your target, then I’m going to tell him to take me home and fuck the image of you out of my mind forever. Does that live up to your expectations of me?”

Drink halfway to his lips, he freezes. “If this is you trying to make me jealous, it won’t work. I’ve had two years to get over you.”

I snatch my glass up from the bar. “You won’t mind if I excuse myself then.”

“Where are you going?” he asks as I slip off the bar stool.

“To find out if your target knows how to properly make a woman scream his name.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Good thing you aren’t me,” I retort.

His eyes don’t leave mine as I back away, deadly calm, and I’m certain he isn’t breathing. I can feel his stare on my skin as I make my way through the dancing crowd.

I felt blistering rage when I saw him with that girl in the pool house. Yeah, I saw him in the magazines and newspaper columns that loved to cover his wild weekends with multiple women, but being there – seeing it in person – was way worse.

He saw a short clip of me being violated, and from the way it was edited, it looked like I was willingly fucking someone else.

It looked like I was enjoying it, cutting out the moments I tried to leave or begged for my boyfriend, but he took it as me cheating. I understand why he took off and refused to hear me out. I saw the video, and it looked terrible on my end.

It didn’t show any of the other people who attacked me while my brother watched. I didn’t consent to a single thing that happened to me that night.

Slut.

You prefer them older, don’t you?

You’re dead to me.