Page 101 of Brutal
Instead, all I can think about is the look on her face when she said it.
You didn’t expect him.
She was right.
If she’s right about that, then the rest is coming.
And that, right there, is where this stops being desire and starts becoming danger.
26
DELANEY
I step out of the club and walk toward the curb to grab a cab. That’s the plan. Go home. Sleep. Reset.
It doesn’t happen.
Because he’s still on me.
The imprint of him is everywhere. My wrist tingles where his fingers closed around it, like the pressure never fully released. My skin is too warm, too aware, as if my body hasn’t realized the moment is over.
His mouth at my ear.
Not quite a kiss. Not quite restraint.
The threat of both.
Then his teeth biting into my flesh.
My breath catches again, a delayed reaction I can’t quite control. A slow heat coils low in my belly, tightening instead of fading. I should be past this already.
I’m not.
For a second—just a second—I let myself feel it. The way I leaned into him. The way I didn’t pull back. The way I would have let it go further.
He’s not the problem.
I am.
I can’t let this be about Samson Vexley. I have to stay focused.
You didn’t expect him.
That’s the thought that cuts through everything else, clean and sharp enough to matter.
He didn’t deny it. Not the way a man like him would.
My feet keep moving.
I don’t slow down. Don’t stop. The rhythm of my steps stays steady, as if my body is handling the mechanics while my mind works through the rest.
This didn’t start with Samson Vexley, of course. It didn’t even begin with Halstead.
It started with a file.
Not the marina. Not at first.
A contractor. A discreet contractor. The kind that installs systems no one talks about and bills through channels that don’t quite line up if you look closely enough. I’d been following them for months. Looking at the quiet jobs, the private clients, work that didn’t show up where it should.
