God of Fury (Legacy of Gods #5) by Rina Kent

Then he turns around and chooses to brush past Gareth instead of me on his way to the door.

Someone is going to a lot of trouble to pretend I’m not here.

Wake-up call is incoming in ten fucking seconds.

I slip out behind him, not bothering to say anything to Glyn and Gareth.

Bran is already quickening his wide, controlled steps down the hall, head straight and shoulders tense. Like when he kissed Clara.

I catch up to him and fall in step beside him. “If you wanted to see me, you should’ve told me and I would’ve given you a tour.”

“Get over yourself.” He’s looking ahead like a fucking robot. “I’m here for my sister and her boyfriend.”

“Tomayto, tomahto. Wanna have that tour anyway?”

“No.”

“How about dinner?”

“No.”

“A drink?”

“No.”

“Do you have another word in your monosyllabic asshole vocabulary tonight?”

“No,” he says, almost on autopilot, and I jump in front of him.

He nearly walks into me and has to stop abruptly, his throat working up and down, and I can’t help but stare at that gorgeous Adam’s apple. I want to bite it.

Hard.

Maybe draw blood in the meantime.

The red would look fucking beautiful against his fair complexion.

He steps back faster than I can blink.

Even though he’s a couple of inches shorter, he manages to look down on me with that condescension he wears like armor. “Are you allergic to shirts or something? Why are you always half naked?”

“Because I look fucking awesome and it’s a pity to hide it. Also, does this mean you were checking me out?”

“Nonsense. It’s impossible to miss your constant state of nudity.”

“Constant state of nudity. Jesus. Chill, my dude. You sound like a judge in court.”

“I’m not your dude.” He stresses the word as if it’s an insult and starts to shift past me.

I get in his way again and he stops. An aura of crushing disdain radiates from him and licks my skin as he shoves a hand in his pocket and releases an exasperated sigh. “What?”

“Why did you reply to me earlier today? Did you miss my texts?”

“I was clearly telling you to stop bothering me.”

“But I wasn’t. I stopped after…you know, your public make-out session with Clara, whom you clearly asked to come to that specific place at that specific time on purpose. What were you trying to prove, lotus flower? Because the way I saw it, you got hard when you had your eyes on me. Not her.”

One minute, I’m standing there, and the next, he crushes my windpipe with his arm as he shoves me against the nearest pillar.

My head hits the harsh stone and pain explodes in my skull, but I don’t feel it.

I can’t.

Not when his eyes blaze a fierce blue, savage and so out of control.

Hands down, the sexiest view I’ve ever seen.

“Listen to me, you thick fucker. I’ve been tolerating your nonsense for far too long, but enough is enough. You’re not my peer, friend, or anything in between. So crawl back into your hole and stop being in my fucking space or I will crush you.”

“Talk dirty to me, baby.”

He growls and I shove my face in his, erasing the few inches separating us. I could easily remove his arm, but I love the pressure.

I love that he lost control enough to get physical. Up close and personal.

“That’s what she calls you, right? Baby. No, it’s the less glamorous version. Babe. Tell me the truth, did you get a boner because you were kissing her or because I got an erection for you? It’s not good form to look at a guy’s hard-on when you’re kissing your girlfriend, don’t you think?”

“Nikolai,” he growls again, the sound masculine and fucking delicious. I want to reach out and suck it from between his lips and jam it down my throat.

But most of all, I love that his control is unraveling, ripping at the edges, and leaving a mess of goo in its wake.

This is the hottest I’ve ever seen him, and I’ve always found him mouthwateringly sexy.

Right now, though, I don’t think I can take it slow or easy. If I’m left to my own devices, I’ll fuck him all up for good. I’ll throw him down and have my way with him. There won’t be patience or diplomacy. There will be choking, grunting, fucking, fucking, and more fucking.

Jesus Christ. Chill, Kolya. We can’t scare him away.

“Mmm. I love the sound of my name on your lips. Say it again, baby.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” His arm presses further into my neck until it’s hard to breathe, but if I have to smash my own vocal cords to egg him on, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

“Tell me more. I’m getting all hot and bothered with your foreplay. I love it when you curse, baby.”

“You fucking—” He cuts himself off, nostrils flaring and cheeks slightly flushed, but then his expression closes.

I can see him slowly pulling himself together and eclipsing behind that giant wall.

Hiding.

Retreating.

Nah, hell no. Fuck that.

I grab his free arm and shove him with my body mass and that’s when the most beautiful thing happens.

Brandon Uptight King steps back once, twice, and lets me push him, his eyes glazed over, and a tremor rushes through his entire body and beneath my fingers.