Scandalous Games: Chapter 50

Dhruv, who apparently has a death wish, doesn’t remove his hands at Dash’s threatening command brimming with unleashed violence. Dash’s hard chest presses against my naked back and I can feel the tension radiating from his body and seeping into my own.

Without giving a foolish Dhruv a chance, one strong and possessive arm circles my waist. One tug and I’m free of the other man, who finally develops the sixth sense that tells him my husband isn’t someone to be messed with. That he made a big fucking mistake.

Panic swells inside my chest when Dash steps forward, going toe to toe with him while holding me flush against him. His size and physical strength, intimidating, especially with the dark expression he’s wearing as he stares Dhruv down.

My heart skips a scared beat when a vicious smirk graces his lips. Goosebumps rake on my skin when he speaks in a low and mocking voice, “So you think you’re a better man for my wife?”

Oh no. He heard everything. He has to know it means nothing. That I don’t believe it.

Dhruv has the decency to look uncomfortable, especially with the guests pausing and watching the whole scene like a train wreck waiting to happen. Even the others have stopped moving on the dance floor.

“We were just dancing, man.”

“You dance with lots of married women, then?” Dash sneers until the other man looks close to pissing himself. “Do you see my ring on Bianca’s finger?”

“Y-yes,” he stutters.

“It means she’s mine. My wife. My woman,” Dash growls, with so much emotion that it takes my breath away and I can’t look away from him. “She will never be yours. Not in this lifetime or any other. Touch my wife again and I’ll cut off your hands. Speak to her and I’ll take out your tongue. You see where I’m going?”

“Yes. Yes, I understand.”

“Run before I change my mind.”

Dhruv scurries away like those cartoon characters leaving a cloud of smoke in their wake. Except, nothing about this is funny. The silence and the tension in the room is deafening with every pair of eyes on us. Some even boldly record us, like we’re a source of entertainment they can’t wait to share stories about. Or probably sell the inside scoop to the media. They observe Dash like he’s a caged animal, afraid yet oddly mesmerized.

The one thing I was absolutely worried about happened. My parents have to be watching among the crowd. Yet they are the last people I’m concerned about. My whole being is attuned to my husband, who I feel is fighting an inner battle. His fingers dig into my waist while the other is clenched into a fist. Facing him until he’s forced to meet my gaze, I’m not prepared for the tumultuous emotions flashing in his eyes. A pain I’ve never witnessed in all these weeks with him.

It’s not jealousy. Or mere possessiveness, but something far deeper and darker.

“Dash,” I take his fist and slowly uncurl his fingers, “talk to me.”

The darkness doesn’t fade from his features. If anything, it burns brighter and something twists in my gut when he tugs his hand free.

“I need some air.”

As brusquely as he came, he walks away. Leaving me bereft, cold, and wondering what the hell just happened. I don’t even think before I chase after him. His broad shoulders disappear around the corner at the other end of the room and into the back hallway.

I walk as fast as I can in my skirt while my heels clack on the shiny floor. From my periphery, I catch my mother walking in my direction and shout my name but I ignore her. I will be dealing with her later. She went too far this time.

As soon as I’m in the hallway, I look left and right and curse when I don’t see Dash. The lobby is deserted and I know he wouldn’t just leave, so I go in the opposite direction of the exit. An instinct guiding me, like some invisible thread connects us.

There is a double door, leading to the garden, and that’s where I see his silhouette through the glass wall. His back is facing me when I enter, my heels ruining any attempt of disguising my presence. He still doesn’t turn around, not even when I’m within touching distance.

It stuns me because it is so very unlike him.

Ever since we met, not a day has gone by when he isn’t holding me one way or the other. Like touching my skin breathes life into him.

“Look at me, Dash.” My voice carries over the chilly air while darkness cloaks us.

“Get back inside, kitten.”

Every syllable is underlined with a tangible warning. A sane girl would heed it but nothing about us has been in the spectrum of sane. So, of course, I ignore it.

“No,” I growl. “You don’t just threaten a man for touching me for a few seconds and then walk away like it never happened.”

His shoulders bunch and tighten. “Walk. Away.”

“What have I told you about bossing me around?”

He whirls around to face me with a ferocious heat in his eyes and I almost stumble back from the power of it. The green pupils, reminding me of a dark, rainy forest, seconds away from swallowing you whole. Instead of running, I ache to be swept into them.

“And what have I warned you about letting another man touch you?”

“He was nobody.” My words don’t penetrate past the storm playing havoc in his eyes.

“Why does every man think they can have you? I can’t fucking stand it. Especially when you stubbornly refuse to admit we are real.” His voice is low, pained, as his head tilts, the light from the nearby lamps playing over his chiseled face. The scruff on his tight jaw, giving him a roguish look. My gaze drops to his lips as he growls darkly, “First it was Niall, and now some random stranger.”

“I can’t change my past, Dash. You can’t be jealous of every man I’ve dated,” I whisper softly. “It’ll only drive you mad.”

A non-sarcastic laugh spills from his mouth and he takes a step back when I inch closer. His gaze softens tenderly at the hurt on my face when he distances himself. “You don’t want me touching you right now, kitten. Because if I do, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

His filthy warning sends a zap straight to my clit. I lick my lips before a plea falls from it, “Dash…”

“What I feel for you isn’t something as fickle or simple as jealousy, kitten. It runs far deeper than that in my veins.” His gaze turns molten while I burn in those flames. “You, my wife, are an obsession I can’t tame. An addiction I can’t quit. A dream I can’t help but chase.”

Ruined.

Utterly and helplessly ruined.

Dash Stern ruins me for all other men with those words. He all but obliterates them into smithereens because no one has ever looked at me like he’s gazing at me at this very moment. Those piercing eyes, letting me peer into the depths of his soul as he bares everything—how I make him feel. The truth of it dismantling the walls that I built around my heart.

Our breathing turns ragged while he remains unmoving, not touching me even as my eyes beg. Does he really not see that I crave him just as madly?

That despite my determination to never let him in, he ruthlessly made his own place in my heart like a thief?

And he proves me right when he utters, “I don’t care if it scares you and you want to keep your heart caged, but I’m done hiding my feelings. My biggest mistake was letting you walk out of my life seven years ago when I should’ve made you mine, and it’s not happening again.”

Stupid, stubborn man.

Closing the distance between us before he has a chance to react, I yank him down by his tie and crush my lips against his. Dash, who’s always in control and fierce, is rendered stunned and speechless for the first time. His heart skips a beat before beating as rapidly as mine and I feel the slow rise of his chest against my own.

I fucking smile.

Cupping the back of his neck, I kiss him like I’ll die if I don’t. Pressing myself harder as though I want to bury myself inside his skin, I lick the seam of his lips. The second my tongue drags across his bottom lip, it snaps him out of his trance. With a deep groan that vibrates directly to my pussy, he takes control and ravages my mouth in a searing and toe-curling kiss.

“Fuck,” he curses, wrenching our lips apart. Our hooded eyes clash and he growls roughly, “You never fucking listen.”

“You were talking too much,” I tease, heat flashing across his face. Our breathing rough and hearts racing, I give in to us. “I’m yours, Dash. And no one is tearing us apart.”