King of Harts

30

Adrian

She's pissed.

I can't take my eyes off of her, shes barely spoken more than a few words to me and she's fucking pissed.

Not only is she pissed, but she's doubting me again. Doubting us. I could see it in her eyes when she spared me the few looks that she did.

My inner demons fight the battle between throwing her over my shoulder and marching out of here so I can rip that god forsaken dress off of her and murdering every bastard in here that can't make it any more obvious that their staring at her ass or tits. Or both.

Adeline Hart is a goddamn genius pairing her sister with a dress like that.

I'm losing my goddamn mind and I'm slightly turned on while I'm at it, doing no better than any of the other fuckers here.

As if she couldn't get anymore beautiful, she shows up tonight looking like that and damn near knocks the wind from my chest. And she's completely unaware of the effect she has on these people. On me.

Not to mention my mind has only been flooded with various images of whatever it is that might be tattooed across her skin. Her words bounced around my head as soon as she shut that door on me and I have not gone a single moment without thinking about whatever it could be that has permanently marked her.

Then my mind spirals and I wonder who it was that got the privilege making me hot with anger, followed by the ache to shred her clothes so I can see whatever the hell it is.

Fucking hell.

Right now she's flashing those dimples at everyone around her, those cheeks of hers flushed from the three Vodka Crans she's finished and my gaze has barely left her the entire night.

Not when she finally found her sister, celebrating her with her newly found friend. Not when she danced until her feet ached with her mother. And not now, as she stands across the room, charming everyone that approaches her because she's buzzed enough to actually socialize and I hate it.

I want to touch her. Kiss her. Christ, what I would give to kiss her right now.

My spine straightens and my jaw clenches when a man approaches her, cheeky grin and all, making me want to break his legs.

I watch my angel look up with those wide and innocent doe eyes of hers and I'm twisting the fuck out of my middle ring, dreading everything about to happen.

She blushes when he says something to her, grins and then she hesitates, eyes scanning the room.

She's looking for me.

Our gazes lock and I can see her swallow, even from afar, my cock hardening at the heat in her eyes.

She is my kryptonite.

I shake my head once as a warning.

Emory quirks a challenging eyebrow before she looks back up at the asshole waiting for her response, flashes those dimples and takes his hand, the two of them disappearing onto the dance floor.

"Fucking brat" I hiss to myself, swiping champagne from one of the servers platters, downing it and starting my hunt.

Squeezing through the crowd of people and trying to find Emory, I ignore the women trying to intercept me.