17. Christian #3
“I think so, but then that stubborn-ass woman wouldn’t ask for help if she was on fire.” There’s affection in his voice, the kind that speaks to history and feelings that don’t just disappear because a relationship ends.
I find myself wonderingwhy the hell they aren’t together, and I must be looking at him too long because he offers the answer before I even have to ask.
“We wanted different things out of life. We still care about each other, but...” He shrugs, taking another drink. “It’s complicated as hell, but I’d drop everything if she needed me. That’s just how it is.”
“Good for you,” I offer, but the commotion at the bar catches my attention.
The Walker boys are getting rowdy, all three of them grinning like devils and holding their hats in their hands. Piper’s smirking, looking between them like she’s playing some twisted game of eeny, meeny, miny, moe.
Oh, hell no.
“Back in a minute,” I mutter, sliding from the booth.
Each step toward the bar feels almost predatory as I try to catch their conversation.
“Guys, I’m not picking. You say the chosen one buys the next round, but we all know what wearing a cowboy’s hat really means.” She meets my eyes as I lean against the bar, one boot propped on the rail beneath. “Although, I’m feeling a little reckless tonight.”
“Pick mine,” one of the triplets says, getting elbowed by his brother. I can’t tell them apart, but they’re all too pretty for their own good.
“Come on, Piper. You know I’ll show you a good time.” Another one grins, leaning over the bar like he’s already got her out of her panties.
She hums like she’s actually considering it, and all I see is red.
She meets my eyes again, and I shake my head, a silent warning. She better not fucking dare .
“Is everything alright, Christian? Can I get you a drink?” Her voice is sweet as sugar, but those green eyes are daring me to snap.
“When you’re done screwing around, we need to have a conversation about boundaries,” I say, loud enough for half the bar to hear, because maybe then the Walkers will take a fucking hint and back off.
“Oh shit, sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t think you were with Travis anymore.”
Fucking small towns—can’t sneeze without six people offering tissues.
“Cal? I need your office for a minute.”
“Go for it,” he hollers back from the other end of the bar, not even bothering to look up from the drinks he’s mixing.
I don’t even need to say another word. Piper’s already peeling herself away from the bar, her shoulders set like she’s ready to fight me on whatever the hell’s got me riled up.
“Sorry, boys,” she tosses over her shoulder. “You’ll have to settle this one on your own. Or maybe Callan will wear one.”
Their laughter roars through the bar as I storm toward the hallway, not bothering to check if she’s following because I already know she is.
I push open the office door and wait for her to step inside before I shut it and flip the lock.
She saunters right past me and perches on the edge of Callan’s desk, eyes glittering with mischief, chin tipped up like she’s daring me to let loose.
“You seem a little wound up,” she purrs, fucking goading me like she wants to poke the bear just to see if he’ll bite.
“Now I know you understand what it means when a cowboy puts his hat on a woman’s head, Piper.”
“I do.”
“So which one of those loudmouth jackasses out there were you planning on riding tonight?”
I stalk toward her, watching her chin lift a little higher with every step that closes the distance between us.
“None of them.”
“No?”
That little shake of her head.
That teasing, sinful smile tugging at her lips.
She wants a reaction? She’s about to fucking get one.
“You need to understand something, Piper.” My fingers skate up the inside of her thigh, while my boot nudges her legs apart and my hand disappears beneath that tiny denim skirt.
“I’m a patient man, but there’s a possessive bastard living under my skin, and now that I’ve had a taste of you, I don’t take kindly to anyone looking at you like you could be theirs. ”
I slip my hand beneath her soaked panties, gliding my fingers across her clit before tracing the length of her swollen lips. I press one long finger inside her, and she jerks against the desk, clutching the edge with both hands.
“Whose cum is this?”
“Yours.”
“That’s right. Mine.” I push deeper, curling my finger until her thighs start to shake, my other hand wrapping around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes roll back. “This pussy. This body. All of it is mine.”
“Jesus, Christian.”
“While we’re doing this, this cunt belongs to me.” My grip tightens, my voice a low, guttural warning. “And I promise, if I catch you even glancing at another man’s hat, I’ll edge you until you’re begging—until you’re fucking sobbing for me to get you off. Understand?”
She nods, her skin flushed and her green eyes blown wide with something that only makes my cock throb.
“Good girl,” I growl, releasing her throat just as I drag my soaked finger out of her. I bring it to her neck and smear her arousal and my cum along the delicate curve of her throat, marking her like the filthy little thing she is.
“Now if anyone comes close to you, they’ll smell me on you. They’ll know you’ve already been fucked full.”
I step back, leaving her shaking and soaked against the desk.
That’s what the little tease gets for pushing my buttons.
I help her smooth her skirt back into place, and when I finally throw open the office door, she stumbles out on unsteady legs, heading back to the bar with my mark gleaming on her throat.