Page 21 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

Parker.

There's a crash from upstairs.

Even though there’s no scream yet, I run up there anyway, taking the stairs two at a time. We're supposed to be leaving for England in three hours, and something tells me she's not ready.

I fling the door open to her room, and a very annoyed Sabrina is standing at the doorway of her ensuite, angrily brushing her teeth. The white foam and her saliva drip from her bottom lip onto her tank top as she stares at me incredulously. That... that shouldn't be so hot.

"What the fuck was that?"

She spits, rinses her mouth, and then points to what I heard.

Her scale is... halfway in the wall, hanging from a hole it created when she flung it from across the room. Deadly aim, this one.

I roll my lips inward to keep from laughing.

"Don't laugh the bloody thing is broken, Savage. So I fixed it. Granted, I was aiming for the window, but I kind of like it there now that I look at it. Like abstract art.”

I huff out a laugh.

"Savage, it said I gained four pounds! That's ridiculous!"

What I'd kill to be able to take her in my arms and kiss away the angry look on her sweet little face.

"Do I look like I've gained four pounds?" She turns slowly, from one side to the other. I let my eyes feast on the sliver of skin of her tummy when she raises her arms and her tank rides up.

"No. But muscle weighs more than fat. Could also be water weight."

"I can't afford to have water weight! I'm going to try the gown Madam Auclair has intricately constructed for me with her bare hands, Parker!"

What I'd kill to have her call me anything but my name. Love, darling, baby...

It's a fucking pipe dream at this point. It's also the last drag. The last week before she becomes Mrs. Maksim Giordano.

She hasn't seen him but periodically, and only for the tabloids.

Her face is thinner, her waist is more tapered, and yes, maybe she's gained a few pounds - but she's squatting half of her body weight, thanks to Raven, Jonas, and me getting her into a strength and conditioning regimen.

All she's done is enhance her curves. She's not boxy or manly; she just looks healthier and more.

.. lethal. The cut of her jaw is now more defined, her cheekbones more pronounced, giving her face this sort of don't fuck with me edge.

Which she'll need once she marries that asshole.

I get giddy when she ignores his texts and calls. I know, childish. But there's something that makes my dick rock hard when she's covered in sweat and he calls, interrupting the music from her playlist playing low in the background, and she ignores it, putting her phone on do not disturb mode.

There's also something visceral that happens to me when she's holding a kettlebell in her arms, and she squats low and her ass spreads. Her leggings get deep in her ass, and she shoots up, driving down on her heels. Her thighs are also more defined. When she bends over, I can see the faint outline of her hammies, and all I want to fucking do is tear her Lululemon’s apart and tongue fuck her pussy while she's bent over anything. Anything .

I want to smell her while she's glistening with sweat.

Call me a sick man, but I want the saltiness of it to be drowned out by the sweetness of her cunt.

God, I want this woman to sit her ass on my face and suffocate me. Every time I think about it, only one song comes to mind, and I whistle it constantly now - "Gory gory what a wonderful way to die."

"Look, you're down two dress sizes, from the last fitting, right?" I say when I realize I haven't said a damn thing in who knows how long, because I've been distracted by thoughts of the way her skin glistens, and she gets pink in the face.

"Yeah."

"I mean... we do have two hours we can kill before we head out. Lots of time for cardio." I waggle my brows in her direction.

"No."

"C'mon... you know you want to. It won't take that long. Thirty minutes, tops. It'll feel so fucking good. Don't you want that? I mean, I could make it hurt, but we can go slow this time. I promise."

"One last time, one minute and you're done."

"Bugger off, Savage. I'm exhausted!"

But you're fucking beautiful.

"Ready?"

She groans my way but raises her arms, and gets into a fighting stance, the punching bag Mav and Jonas installed for her on the heavyweight stand sways lightly back and forth from the last round.

"Go!"

She jabs, her punches barely making it move, but she's going.

Never giving up. Her damp tank top clings to her like a second skin.

It was only a week ago she finally let me see her without a hoodie or a sweatshirt while she worked out.

I had to avert my eyes because I kept getting hard while we were in Raven's basement.

I finally had to leave and jerk off, finding my release in less than three minutes, then flushed it down the toilet.

Not a proud moment for me.Especially when the guys all have knowing smirks on their faces.

I was a fucking special forces sniper. Did two fucking tours.

I've been stabbed, shot, left for dead. But this woman walks around with a sports bra and yoga pants, and she kills me.

I practically cum in my pants at the thought of tasting her.

It doesn't help that she smells so fucking good all the time.

If she doesn't smell all floral, she smells like warm sugar and cinnamon.

Fuck I want her on my tongue.

"Thirty seconds!"

She no longer looks at her footwork, she's steady and trusts herself. She's getting stronger. Better. Breathes deeper and easier.

"Twenty!"

Her core tightens, her punches slamming harder. I know my baby's exhausted, but she's my little fighter.

"Ten!'

She's grunting, making noises that get me so fucking dizzy.

I count down for her.

She doesn't let up.

"Three... two... one!"

She stops, slowly putting her arms down, delicious ample chest heaving. Sweat trails from under her breasts, to her navel, to the parts that make her a woman, and I am infatuated. She turns to me, red-faced and beautiful, green eyes gleaming. "I did it."

I nod. "You did. For forty-five minutes."

"You said only thirty!"

"But I knew you could go longer, and you did. How do you feel?"

She squints at me, eyeing me up and down, then purses her lips together. " Betrayed ."

I huff out a laugh. "Unwrap so you can get showered, and we can get coffee on the way to the jet."

She does as she's told, throwing away the boxing tape. "Mmm. Just chamomile. I want to sleep on the plane. We'll have too much to do once we land."

"Alright."

"Thank you, Parker. For everything. I know I don't say it enough... but there's a part of me that really believes I wouldn't still be here if it weren't for your patience. I know I'm a nightmare and a bit of a bitch, but I'm working on it. Trying to. I'm doing my best." She corrects herself.

Truth is, she can be as bitchy to me as she likes. I fucking love her spitfire. Mostly ‘cause it's not ever really aimed at me. It's aimed at her fiancé. I fucking love it. She gets home all angry and starts baking for me or working out. I'm fine with either.

I follow her out into the living room, and we go our separate ways.

I need to make sure I fist my dick before our six hour flight or I’ll have another awkward boner to deal with on the plane.

"What… in the goddamn fuck are you doing here?" She growls as we enter the cabin of the jet, finding Maksim on his laptop, whiskey to his right with a firm, smug smirk on his face.

"My future mother-in-law called me this morning. Imagine my surprise when she asked if I would be arriving in the morning as well."

"You aren't needed on this trip, Mr. Giordano. I'm just getting my dress. You can go."

"Or I can stay. And it's Maksim ."

"It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

The smirk on his face sliding right off. "You know, you've said that so much these last few weeks, it's lost its charm."

And yet it still makes me smile.

"Trust me, the last thing I'm trying to do is charm you." She snaps. "Get off the plane, please, Mr. Giordano. You're holding us up, and I really can't miss this appointment."

"I think I'm staying."

I watch Sabrina's metaphorical hackles rise.

"GET OFF OF MY FUCKING PLANE! I DON'T WANT YOU HERE!

" her chest heaves. The flight attendant scurries into the cockpit.

"I don't want to look at you, I don't want to hear you grunt.

I don't want to smell you. Or feel you watching me.

I don't want to smell the whiskey or have to stand it on your breath when you grunt at me.

I. Don't. Want. You. Here." She grabs the bottle of Johnnie Blue and flings it at him, which he catches before it hits his head.

See? Good aim, my girl. "Take the fucking liquor as my wedding gift to you and go.

Please . You are not wanted , nor are you needed on this trip, Mr. Giordano. "

It's silent.

Dead silent.

The kind of silence that makes the little hairs on your arm stand on end, letting you know danger is near.

I slide my hand to my waistband, by my gun holster, ready for anything.

Maksim looks grim as he takes her in, dark eyes perusing her as he puts the bottle down.

I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost. I know what he's thinking.

Had she been anyone else, had his right hand been there instead of me, there would've been two guns pointed at her head for the blatant disrespect.

I can feel his anger from here, and I can see how hard she's trying not to shake.

But not from fear, from her own anger. Turmoil.

From having to hide how she really feels at all times and now letting just a small sliver show.

Oh, my little hellcat’s still in there, clawing her way out, slowly but surely.

"Sorry, we're late - oh, shit. Uh, are we... interrupting something?" We hear from the door of the plane as Jonas and Raven step through.