Page 102 of The Bratva Sinner

“This is humiliating!” Lila hisses.

“You’re the one making a scene,” I say calmly.

“Because you threw me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes!”

“You shouldn’t have let him touch you.”

“He didn’t touch me! You grabbed him before he could!”

“Exactly.”

We reach the private exit that leads to the parking garage. The guard opens the door without comment, though I see the smirk he’s trying to hide.

I set Lila down next to the SUV, and she shoves me hard.

“You’re insane!” Her face is red. Whether it’s from anger or embarrassment or both, I can’t tell. “You can’t just carry me out of there like that!”

“I just did.”

“I was having fun!”

“With some asshole trying to put his hands on you.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You are.” She steps closer, poking me in the chest. “You’re jealous because someone else was looking at me.”

“I’m protective because you’re my wife.”

“That’s not what this is.” She’s breathing hard, and her eyes are blazing. “You didn’t like seeing me with someone else. Admit it.”

I grab her wrist and pull her flush against me. “Fine. I didn’t like it. I don’t like any man looking at you, touching you, or breathing the same air as you. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes!” She’s shouting now. “Because now you know how I felt seeing you at that party with women climbing all over you.”

I lean down until our faces are inches apart. “I wanted to break every finger on that man’s hand for getting within three feet of you. I want to take you home and fuck you until you forget anyone else exists. I want to mark you so thoroughly that no one else will try to touch you again.”

Her breath catches. “Then do it.”

I stare at her. “What?”

“You heard me.” She grabs my shirt, pulling me closer. “Take me home. Do all of it.”

I don’t need to be told twice.

I open the back door of the SUV and push her inside. I follow, slamming the door behind me. Sampson is in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the garage before I say anything.

Lila is on me immediately, her mouth finding mine, and her hands tugging at my shirt. I grab her hips and pull her onto my lap so she’s straddling me.

“We’re not alone,” I remind her.

“Sampson, don’t look,” she calls out.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I slide my hands under her top, feeling the warm skin of her back. She arches into me, threading her fingers through my hair.