And what he did was stride forward and wrench me out of Bennett’s arms. Not gently, but not enough to hurt either. Bennett hadn’t been holding methattightly.
“Hey!” Bennett said, not loudly enough to carry over the music or children screaming and laughing.
Elden had a tight grip on my upper arm.
“Let me go,” I snapped, not trying to pull my arm back. I was too busy savoring the way my entire body came alive at his presence, his touch, his scent.
I was glaring up at him, and he was glowering at Bennett who had puffed up his chest and stepped forward to do who knew what.
“You let her go,” he demanded, showing a side of him that was perhaps a bit possessive. But there was a hesitancy there, as most people would feel when faced with a fully pissed off Elden.
“Not doin’ that,” Elden replied quietly. “And you’re not gonna make a scene. You’re gonna take your ass back to whatever country club spat you out, and I’m gonna have a word with Violet.”
Elden did not wait for Bennett to argue like it looked like he was going to. No, he just commenced in dragging me down the hall.
Although the clubhouse was crowded with members, families, and whoever else was connected to the club, somehow no one but Bennett noticed Elden dragging me down the hall. Well, Colby noticed, his eyes flaring with surprise when they landed on me. Or more accurately, Elden’s arm on me. But instead of raising the alarm, stepping in or being chivalrous, he grinned wickedly at me.
Traitor.
Bennett had not followed us.
He had just let me be dragged off by a dangerous and seriously pissed off biker. Granted, the biker in question was two times bigger and infinitely more menacing than him, and armed, but still. As much as I believed that I was capable of looking out for myself and my disgust for the trope of women being damsels in distress, only existing to be saved by men and to bolster up their sense of strength and glory, a girl wanted to be saved once in a while.
“You cannot just rip me out of another man’s arms,” I hissed at Elden as he pulled me down the hall.
“He’s no fucking man,” he snarled. Yeah,snarled. “Any man holdin’ onto you is on guard, prepared for some other fuck to try to take her from them and is holding tight to make sure that never happens.” He kept dragging me—not rough enough to make a point—while maintaining icy, furious, maddening eye contact. “Any man lucky enough to be holdin’ onto you will fight to the fuckin’ death to make sure you are theirs and only theirs.”
I pursed my lips as an ache formed between my legs. I was unsure of what to say to that since there really was no rational argument. Well, sure, there were a lot of rational arguments regarding the misogynist undertones in everything he’d just said. I could’ve pointed out that I was a human being with agency, autonomy, not someone to be owned, claimed. I was complicated, full of multitudes and complex thoughts. I wasn’t an object to be owned by any man.
But when it came to Elden, there was nothing complicated about me. I was his. He owned me. For better or for worse.
And when he opened the door to his bedroom with an energy of fury simmering around him, I knew it was for the worse.
My blood sang with fear, my panties already damp in tandem with that fear. It excited me. Made me feel alive.
Elden didn’t look the least bit excited, his entire body was tense, his face etched into a glower, his whole body was trembling with fury. The door slammed shut behind us, and he pushed the center of my chest so I slammed into the wall.
Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make a point. To dwarf me with his strength. Make it known I was helpless around him.
My knees were knocking together, and my pussy throbbed.
“The first time I kissed you, I knew I was making a mistake before I did it,” he murmured, brushing hair from my face. “But I did it anyway because I had about as much choice as I did inhaling and exhaling. I told myself it would be once. So I could taste you, so I wasn’t driving myself crazy, stayin’ up all night wonderin’ what your lips feel like.”
His eyes scurried up and down my outfit. I was wearing a tight, plum leather skirt, knee knee-high boots and a fitted, plum sweater. Elden liked it, it seemed, from the way his eyes flared as they ran over my body.
“Now I stay up all night wonderin’ what it would feel like to own every part of you.” He coiled a strand of my hair around his finger.. “What it would be like to be worthy of you. The later parts of the nights are spent hating myself for wanting you.”
My heart was beating so fast, my entire body vibrated.
“The last time we were together, your lips were around my cock.” His voice was soft and cutting at the same time.
My breath caught in my lungs. Or that’s what it seemed. I was still standing, so I must’ve been breathing.
Elden’s eyes turned to pits of fury.
“So what thefuck, Violet?” he leaned forward, palm still on the center of my chest. His fingers brushed against my nipples which were already aching and hard.
Although my body burned hot with desire, I tried with everything inside me to keep my expression placid. “What?” I asked sweetly.