The Heartbreaker (Chandler Brothers #3)(25)
Author: Carly Phillips

No man had ever dared to treat her as his property. Chase did. He took over, his movements greedy and possessive, and darned if she didn’t like this new attitude of his, enough for her to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him back, nearly to the point of losing control herself. So much so, she was taken off guard when he broke the hot connection.

“How’s that for proof?” he asked Dice without tearing his fiery gaze from hers.

“Hell, man, even I could kiss her and make her melt.”

“More like pass out,” Sloane muttered. She was sick of this disgusting man’s macho attitude.

“I’m done taking orders from you,” Chase told the biker. “We’re out of here.” Chase grabbed Sloane’s hand, obviously intending to pull her across the bar.

“You ain’t going anywhere. At least not with the lady.” From the menacing look in Dice’s eyes and the way his gang began to circle around him, Sloane knew they were serious.

Her stomach clenched in pure fear. And then she looked at Chase’s harsh profile. The man might be a newspaper reporter with a soft spot for his family, but she was discovering that he wasn’t a man to mess with. Despite the danger surrounding them, Sloane felt ridiculously safe with him by her side.

“Leave her here and I’ll show you the door myself.” Dice snickered, but Sloane didn’t find him funny.

“I’m sick of this shit.” Chase squared his shoulders and kicked a pool cue across the floor, its rattling sound echoing in the sudden silence. “Nobody tells me when and where to mess with my girlfriend. I’m not going to kiss her again unless I’m in the mood and you’re killing mine. So get the hell out of my way.” He stepped forward with determination.

She spared a quick glance his way. His facial expression looked as if it’d been chiseled out of hard granite. Now Sloane was scared. She didn’t want Chase getting his gorgeous face kicked in or his body hurt, thanks to Dice. Or rather, thanks to her since she’d gotten him into this bar, and this mess.

Dice wanted proof of possession? It was time Chase gave it to him, something he’d just made clear he’d only do on his terms. Sloane intended to make sure those terms were met.

She sidled closer to him, then slid her hands over his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. “Come on,” she whispered. “I like having an audience. It’s so . . . hot.”

She nipped his earlobe and his body shook. She wasn’t exactly lying, since being with Chase anywhere was hot . It’s just that she’d rather be in the comfort of his home at this moment. No Dice, no threats.

“You want hot? I’ll give you hot,” Dice said, obviously showing off for his friends.

Chase’s hands clenched into fists at his side as he realized the big biker hung on Sloane’s every word and action, ready to pounce. On her.

Showing patience and restraint, Chase glared, obviously debating his next move. Sloane wasn’t as content to hide her emotions. Trailing her fingers up his neck, she thread her hands in his hair, massaging his scalp with the palm of her hands. “Don’t you want me?”

she asked, when she really meant, Don’t you want to get the hell out of here?

Desperation tinged Sloane’s voice and her fingers dug into Chase’s scalp. He couldn’t react to her fear or he’d lose the upper hand with Dice.

He met her gaze. “I want you, all right.” He spoke the truth. Chase was on the edge. On the edge of pulling Sloane away from this crowd and on the edge of taking her right here on the damn pool table.

She had a point about the audience. Kissing her and staking his claim had a carnal, caveman sort of appeal. He’d been holding back out of respect for her, but they weren’t getting out of here unless he marked her as his.

Something she obviously understood and was angling for, something she apparently wanted despite her fear—that is, if the excited gleam in her eyes or husky voice was any indication. And the way her fingers tugged against his scalp heightened his awareness and aroused his senses. So did the surrounding danger.

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked.

He sensed Dice’s approach from behind, felt his time running out. “Good question.” He lifted her by the waist, turned back, and seated her on the edge of the pool table; then he settled himself between her legs. Even with the denim barrier, warm heat enveloped him.

He recalled exactly what the moist place between her legs felt like and broke into a sweat.

Behind him, Dice called for him to make his move, but Chase planned to go at his own pace. Lowering his head, he took his first taste of her neck. She smelled sweet and felt warm as his tongue gently lapped at her soft skin. She let out one of those moans that he loved to hear. She might kill him, but at least he’d die a happy man.

Still, he couldn’t put things off much longer. He pulled her long, tangled hair farther away from her flesh and blew on the moistened spot on her neck. The clapping, whistles, and catcalls surrounding them grew louder, yet for all Chase cared, they might as well have been alone. But they weren’t, and in order to get there, he had one more move to make.

Once again, he slid his tongue over her tender flesh—once, twice—then lingered, long enough to let Dice think he was marking her in the most visible, primal way. He raised his head and pulled a dazed Sloane to her feet. Then he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, the collar and her hair covering her neck. Let Dice think what he wanted.

“We’re out of here.” He squeezed her hand tighter and started past the biker, noticing his friends were awaiting the man’s okay before letting them through.

A nod from Dice and the group parted, revealing a path toward the rest of the bar and the exit beyond. Chase’s relief lasted for two seconds, long enough for him to lead Sloane past the crowd. Then she paused. She jerked on his hand, causing him to stop in his tracks.

She looked back to Dice, his buddies, and to the old men who’d resumed their game of pool as if nothing had happened to disrupt them.

“Hey, Earl,” Sloane called out.

Chase tensed, gripping her hand in a deathlock, knowing what was coming and powerless to stop her.

“See you Friday.” She waved with her free hand. “And if you see Samson, tell him to be here.”

Chase had had enough. He stormed for the front door, pulling Sloane behind him. Once safely in the vestibule, he grabbed her by the forearms. “You are insane,” he said, shaking her and letting out his frustration. “No way in hell am I letting you come back here Friday night. Not after what I had to go through to save your pretty behind this time.”