Gio
T he red dress laps around Jeniah’s thick thighs, a possessive lover clinging to her body. My mouth waters. She spins around and stuns from every angle. An enchantress demanding my soul. My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, my greedy eyes devouring her.
The fabric taunts me, highlighting the valley between her breasts and the arc of her waist. She’s a walking wet dream. I am a fucking idiot to let her leave.
“You sure this is okay?” Jeniah asks, biting her lip. “I mean, I know it’s only a club, but still—”
“You look fucking perfect,” I grit out, my voice rougher than I intended. “Absolutely beautiful.”
Atlas coughs from the doorway. He’s been riding my ass all evening about letting Jeniah go to the club without me, and now here she is, looking like an angel and preparing to step into the devil’s den.
“You ready, sweetheart?” Atlas asks, holding his arm for Jeniah. I glare at him, my muscles tensing when she takes it. His grin widens, daring me to say something. I remind myself that we’re family.
“, are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Jeniah asks. Her wide doe eyes entice me.
My teeth grind together, but I shake my head. “Go have fun, okay? Enjoy yourself. Atlas will keep an eye on you and remember what I said about following his orders if there’s any trouble.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she says, eyes rolling. “Run, duck, hide. Yadda, yadda, blah, blah.”
I ignore her and raise my brow at Atlas. I’ll hold him personally responsible if anything happens to her. He reads the room and stops smirking. “She’ll be fine, . Don’t you worry. I’ll watch over her like she’s a newborn.”
I collapse onto the couch, my head in my hands, my mind reeling when they leave. Why the fuck am letting her go without me? Oh yeah, because I’m a jealous bastard. And if I see another man with her, I might bring the fucking walls down. Not that I care about razing the club. But I don’t want Jeniah to see that side of me. The side that wanted to chop off the hand of my cousin for touching her.
Jeniah wants her freedom—deserves it. I’m fighting to give it to her. Struggling not to put her back in a cage, safe and sound, under my protection, where she belongs.
One hour. I last one hour.
Sixty minutes of pure fucking torture before I’m off the couch and leaving the penthouse behind. I leave the elevator’s quiet containment and walk down the dimly lit hall leading to the Club Sin. Obsidian marble floors stretch out like a black river. The bass seeps through the walls, a deep pulse vibrating beneath my shoes. The kind of pulse that controls the whole damn place. You can’t escape it once you’re inside. The fucking rhythm owns everyone in the room. Seduces them.
Sounds of intoxicated laughter and the sultry chatter greet me. The staff recognizes me and waves me in without question. When I step inside, the thick scent hits me: alcohol, sweat, expensive perfume, and that underlying musk of want. Desperate electricity threads through the crowd, seeping into the swirling mix of bodies, lights, and smoke.
I hate that she is here. Fuck, what had I been thinking?
I spot Atlas leaning against the bar. His broad shoulders relaxed, eyes scanning the crowd like he’s on vacation. I catch the moment Atlas clocks me. His face morphs into a shit-eating grin I want to wipe off with a fist to the jaw.
“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” he says before taking a casual sip of whatever neat whiskey sits in front of him.
I ignore his jibe. “Where is she?”
Atlas tilts his head toward the far side of the dance floor, raising an eyebrow like he wants me to say something else. But I can’t. I can’t fucking breathe when my eyes land on her.
There she is, under the neon lights on the dance floor, looking like some goddamn vision in red. The dress — the dress I couldn’t get out of my head—clings to every curve as she moves to the beat. She’s oblivious to everything around her, lost in the music, her hips swaying in that way that makes men lose their minds.
She’s not alone.
My jaw clenches when I see who’s around her—three guys. Gawking, shameless pricks who circle her like wolves on the hunt, inching closer every time she twirls or dances away. Each of them ready to try their luck if she gives them a chance.
The anger in my belly spreads like wildfire—drumming in my ears, drowning out the bass. Every protective instinct in me snaps into place; my fists clench at my sides when one asshat reaches for her waist, touching what doesn’t belong to him.
I shoot Atlas a look. His grin vanishes. He knows the drill. “She’s fine, . She’s dancing—”
“Not for long.”
I’m already moving, not bothering to hear the rest of his argument. Weaving my way through the crowd, the storm building inside me. The guys stalk closer to their prey, unaware that a deadlier predator is on their trail.
The crowd parts when I reach them, sensing my fury. I ignore them. They are just more prey scurrying out of the way. I focus on Jeniah. Her long braids cascade down her back, swaying as she moves. Under the flashing neon lights, her brown skin is smooth mahogany, and the red dress—fuck, that dress—it’s something holy. Commands worship of its owner. I can barely think, barely breathe, as her hips roll with the beat. She doesn’t even know I’m here yet, completely lost in the music.
But the jackasses surrounding her? They notice me. They spotted me immediately. I saw it in their body language—the way they stiffened, glancing over with narrowed eyes. Jealousy flared in their gazes as Jeniah laughed at…something. Hell, if I knew what, because all I could think about was how these fools were going to lose their shot. Whatever attention they thought they were getting, that was going to end. Right fucking now.
I get closer until I am nearly behind her, close enough to catch the subtle scent of her perfume, sweet and intoxicating. Some guy standing in front of her—broad-shouldered but soft around the middle, steps a little too close, like he is about to get handsy. In that instant, everything inside me coils tight, a tension that begs to be released. I might’ve done something reckless, something violent, when—
She turns.
Jeniah stops mid-movement, her long braids swishing as she spins around and spots me. And just like that, the tight, clawing knot I’ve been carrying around all night… loosens .
Her eyes light up, and her warm smile spreads across her face like the dawn breaking over the goddamn horizon. Not angry, no annoyance. Pleasure. Pleasure, at seeing me.
For a moment, for a single breath, it is us—with her happiness soothing the raw edges of my anger.
“,” she practically shouts over the music, closing the space between us. She looks up at me like I am the only person in the room. She sets one of her hands against my chest, her slender fingers pressing right where my heart beats too fast.
My rigid shoulders finally relax, barely. That wild, suffocating possessiveness in my chest isn’t gone, but it is quieter.
“Did you change your mind?” she teases, her hand still resting there, still steadying everything inside me.
I open my mouth to respond but catch the dark looks from the guys around her. The moment she turns to me, the moment she smiles at me like that, bitterness flares in their expressions. Three of them are now watching me like a rival, eyes narrowing, fists forming as if they’d staked a claim on her.
One of them—a wiry fuck with hair gelled back like some wannabe model—scowls, stepping closer. He is pissed, pissed that I’ve taken her attention.
Part of me relishes it.
“Who’s this guy?” Model Wannabe sneers, looking me up and down like I don’t belong. He doesn’t like this new development at all. And I give zero fucks about what he likes.
My eyes stay locked on Jeniah. “It’s time to leave,” I say loud enough for her fan club to hear.
Her expression doesn’t falter. She doesn’t roll her eyes or argue. Instead, her smile softens.
“I’m not ready to leave yet,” she says, teasing me again with a playful edge. “Come on, . Dance with me.”
She isn’t purposely igniting the firestorm brewing behind my ribs, but she doesn’t understand what is happening here. One man, his mouth opens like he is about to say some slick shit.
Try it, I think. Fucking try it.
“Babe, I’m not the dancing type,” I shoot back, struggling to keep my tone level, but fuck, the tension is spiraling fast.
Then, the idiot makes his move.
“I’ll dance with you,” he says, touching her. The fucking idiot’s hand touches Jeniah’s waist, light at first, like he thinks he can make a play without me noticing. Like I don’t already see the whole damn thing.
Before I think, my body moves. Reacting on instinct. Pure reflex. I reach around her—firmly pulling her away from him.
He blinks in surprise, his hand dropping when I step between him and Jeniah, keeping her behind me. She lets out a tiny confused mew but doesn’t resist. She is safe and away from the mess that is about to unfold.
“I said,” my voice a low rumble, barely cutting through the heavy bass of the music, “We’re done here.”
The wiry bastard doesn’t like that; he steps up with the kind of swagger that comes from too much cheap liquor. “You got a problem or something?” he asks, crossing his arms in some half-assed attempt to save face in front of his boys.
My eyes flick to him, then to his hand—the one that touched her—and I see red.
“Yeah,” I growl, edging forward, “I have a fucking problem.”
Then it happens. The push on my shoulder from behind me, some dumb prick thinking he can take me. The second that hand connects my vision tunnels, my instincts click into action. Without hesitation, I spin and clock the guy square in the jaw —hard enough to make his eyes roll back for a flash before he crumples to the floor. He is done.
Another one lunges for me, and I dispatch him fast, driving a punch into his gut that doubles him over before I slam an elbow into his back. They drop like flies. Another fool rushes in, and I barely break a fucking sweat.
“!” Jeniah’s voice cuts through the chaos. She isn’t scared, but she is worried. I see her breaking through the mess, her hand reaching out toward me. Suddenly, she is standing near the fray, trying to throw herself between me and the next one coming my way.
She doesn’t fucking understand. These guys would hurt her if she let them.
“Stay back,” I shout, voice hoarse but sharp. I reach out blindly and push her away from the strikes, using just enough force to keep her safe.
Atlas swoops in from the sidelines, grabbing her arm before she can cause any more trouble. “He’s okay,” Atlas tells her over the music, holding her steady. “ can handle himself.”
Before I can land another blow, before another guy dares to touch her, she breaks free from Atlas and comes straight for me. Her hand shoots out, her fingers pressing against my shoulder, turning me.
“,” Jeniah’s soft voice pierces my red haze, her steady hand on my shoulder. “Please…” she says gently, her eyes locking onto mine. “It’s done. You’re scaring people.” She isn’t afraid, not of me. But she is trying to calm me down and pull me back from the brink before I go too far.
“Jeniah…” I whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of what I could’ve done.
She takes a step closer, her thumb rubbing lightly over the front of my jacket. “Let’s go,” she murmurs, calming me. “We need to get out of here.”
I nod, barely breathing as the adrenaline wears off, leaving me exhausted.
With one final glare at the assholes still on the floor, I take her hand and lead her toward the exit, Atlas trailing behind with a silent nod of approval.
We’re done here—finally.
My hand grips Jeniah’s tightly as we head toward the private elevator that will take us to the penthouse. I need to get us out of this place where people stare, where the air is too loud with music, commotion, and fuckers on the floor, groaning like pussies.
The hallway outside the club is cool compared to the heat and the wild, pulsing energy of Club Sin. My pulse is still pounding from the fight, but her presence, her warmth beside me, is starting to drag me back from the edge.
But it isn’t until we stand in front of the elevator that I notice her feet.
“Wait.” I stop short, my eyes drifting down her long legs. “Where are your shoes?”
Jeniah looks up at me, her full lips quirking into a half smile as she wiggles her bare toes against the cold marble floor. Her long braids shift over her shoulder.
“Oh, those?” she laughs, like it is nothing. “I kicked them off back there. Kinda needed to move fast… You know—in case you needed help.”
I stare at her, mouth ajar. She is serious. She’s ditched her expensive, fancy club shoes in the middle of a situation I was already handling to help me. To be ready if I needed her by my side.
Holy shit.
“Wait…” I look her over again, look at the way she’d slipped right into the chaos without a second thought for herself. “You really—”
Her brow arches. “Hey, couldn’t exactly help in stilettos, could I?”
My mouth goes dry, words catching somewhere in my throat. A part of me should be furious—pissed at the reckless, bold thing she did, but…
Fuck.
I am stunned.
I am… impressed.
And right there, in that moment, even as everything around me has been spiraling all night, it clicks. I’d thought I was working through feelings of protectiveness, some kind of possessive caveman shit, and sure… some of that is still swirling beneath my skin. But this? Her? This is more than about protection. This is more than possessiveness, more than anything I’ve ever felt.
I love her.
It hits me like a hard punch to the gut, leaving me breathless for a second. But I don’t say it—I can’t. Not yet.
Instead, I do what feels right in that moment. I look down at her, completely bare-footed and unapologetic, and I don’t even think. I sweep her right off her feet into my arms. She gasps, laughing in surprise as I lift her off the floor like she weighs nothing and circle her legs around my waist.
“,” she cries out, arms wrapping automatically around my neck. “Put me down.”
“Not a chance.” Instead, I carry her right into the elevator, and the second the doors close behind us, everything else—the fight, the crowd, the club—fades.
The only thing that exists is Jeniah.
Without a word, I pin her against the elevator wall, her back hitting the cold mirror surface, and before she protests, my lips crash into hers. I kiss her hard. We’ve been dancing around this for way too fucking long. And as soon as her lips meet mine, all the tension, all that pent-up energy I’ve been battling tonight, explodes into something white-hot and consuming.
My hands move to her waist, feeling her softness under my fingers as I hit the emergency stop button with one hand, slamming the elevator to a halt somewhere between the penthouse floor and Club Sin. The abrupt jolt makes her gasp into my mouth, but then she kisses me back fiercely, her fingers tangling in my hair, her body arching into mine.
I can’t stop. I don’t want to.
My lips trail down her neck, pressing hot kisses into the length of her smooth, brown skin. I taste her vanilla sugar flavor again as my hands roam her body. I kiss down to her collarbone, pulling at the thin straps of her dress, my fingers trembling slightly as I slide the fabric down over her shoulder.
But then I pull back, breathless. My eyes searching her face. “Is this what you want?” I need to hear her say it. Need to know, with no ambiguity, that she wants this badly as I do.
Jeniah’s dark eyes burn in the dim light of the elevator, burning with something I can’t describe but feel down to my bones. She brings her hand to my face, her fingers tracing my jaw, her expression soft but firm.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice is steady with equal parts desire and certainty. “I’m ready, . Take another item off my list.”
For a heartbeat, her words send a wave of bitterness through me. Another item off her list? That’s what I am now? Another thing to check off some bucket list of hers? When I figured it out—when I knew that this was bigger than anything I’d ever felt—she was still thinking of it as some sort of excursion, some adventure.
The corner of my mouth twitches downward, my jaw tightening. “So, would any of those guys upstairs have been good enough?” I growl before I can stop myself.
Jeniah’s expression shifts, but not with annoyance. She cups my face in both hands, dragging my focus back to her as she looks me dead in the eye. “No,” she says it softly, but it is firm, unshakable. “No one else comes close to you, .”
I stare at her, my chest tightening against the onslaught of emotions this woman stirs inside me. No one else. No one but me.
Shit. She is too much. Too much to handle, too much for my mind, and definitely too much for my heart—which is now battering itself against my ribs like it wants to spring right out of my chest and into her hands.
I let out a ragged breath, and then slowly, I slide her down my body until her feet touch the ground again. She keeps her hands gripped tight around my neck while my hand slams the button again, releasing the elevator from its pause.
We stand frozen, faces inches apart, as the elevator descends to our floor. I scoop her up in my arms again when it reaches the penthouse—because she’s mine. Because no one else gets to take her from me—and I carry her out into the hall.
Her body is pressed tightly against mine, her head resting on my chest, but she doesn’t protest this time. Not that I would’ve listened.
We don’t speak as I take her to the master suite. The luxurious spaciousness of my place opens up before us, but all I can focus on is her—her warmth, the soft rhythm of her breaths syncing with my own.
I kick open the bedroom door, stepping through it like something primal has taken hold of every bone in my body.
There isn’t any hurry. No rush. I lay her down on the bed—gently, reverently—watching as her braids fan out on the pillows like an ink-black halo around her shining face. She smiles at me, eyes hooded with desire but soft with something else. Something even hotter.
I climb on after her, leaning down, and kiss her again—this time slower. Deeper, savoring her with every fiber, every inch of me. Then, as I let my lips trail from her mouth down to her neck and shoulder, I know. No matter what happened inside Club Sin, no matter the chaos outside, this is it. This is always going to be it.
Us.
And tonight, I am going to show her she doesn’t belong to anyone but me.