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“I want you.”

“Sweet girl. I know you do.”

And then Evan pulls away, and I almost stumble back into the coats and furs and blood-red walls, dizzy from the loss of his heat, his hands, his grip, his control. I blink around, disoriented and breathless, only to realise that we’re alone in the coatroom, the door already closed.

LA guy is long gone.

43

One Word

Sophie

“He’s gone,” I snap,glaring at Evan.

He grins, self-satisfied and shameless, and shrugs one shoulder.

“Good.”

I try to hit him but he catches my wrist mid-air.

“A lot of effort to go to,” I sneer at him, “just to avoid admitting you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” Evan yanks me to him by my wrist, voice dropping. “Of course I’m jealous, Sutton. You think Ilikeseeing some random nobody put his hands on my girl? I can’t even stand seeing another man get so much as a second of your attention.” There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes even though his expression is still calm. “You have no idea how hard I’m trying to be good for you. To let you have your space, to let you make your own choices, to let you pretend we’re not what we are. But this? Watching some guy drag you off into a dark corner when it should bemefucking all that frustration out of you?”

He shakes his head, a rough laugh leaving his throat.

“No. I’m not good enough to pretend I don’tcare about that.”

His other hand comes up, fingertips grazing the line of my jaw, his touch feather-light, sending ripples of sensation throughout my body.

“You can fight it as long as you want, love, but we both know the truth.”

His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, barely there, sending heat curling low in my stomach.

“You always end up right back where you started.” A slow grin. A whisper against my skin. “Glaring up at me while making up some excuse or other to forbid yourself from loving me.”

Heat curls low in my stomach; I roll my eyes at him.

“You seem pretty capable of finding other women to glare up at you, Knight.”

EvenIknow I’m being petty. Evan’s eyes widen in an expression of mock surprise before dropping half-lidded. His lips curve, languid and carnal all at once.

“Sophie Sutton…”

His voice is thick, teasing, despicablypleased. He lifts my hand to his mouth, thumb pressing into my palm as he brushes his lips over my wrist, a whisper of warmth against my pulse.

My lips part on a sharp breath.

His smirk deepens. He looks satisfied, aroused, like this is the most addictively erotic thing he could possibly witness.

“Areyoujealous?”

The air is too thick, too heavy, too stifling. I rip my hand from his grip so fast I almost feel the snap of tension between us.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I tell him, stepping back.

He follows. “Ah, so youare.”