“And now that we’ve finished stroking your ego, I think we’re done here,” she said. Her words were quiet, and I didn’t like seeing her bold sassiness muted.

I decided to throw myself out there too. Fuck, I hoped I knew what I was doing. “I didn’t say I didn’t like you trying to get my attention. Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been fighting to stay away from you? Jesus, woman, you’re the sexiest fucking thing to set foot in this place. My dick has become way too well-acquainted with my zipper—and a fuck ton more acquainted with my hand since you started.”

I was glad I couldn’t see a mirror, because I was pretty sure my eyes were bugging out of my head. Which was a great look when paired with my burning cheeks.

But his bold declaration—and the thought of Lord getting himself off while thinking about me—stripped away my embarrassment.

My nipples puckered against my thin bra, and I bet if I were to look down, I’d see both headlights on high beams. My eyes dropped unintentionally. And so did Lord’s.

That sexy smirk … it got sexier, if that were even possible.

“Seems that even if that sassy mouth of yours has a problem with me, that hot-as-hell body doesn’t.”

I glared. Or tried to. Who knew if I was actually successful, considering how distracted I was by the heat of his body. I found my voice.

“Unfortunately the sassy mouth and hot-as-hell body come in the same package, and that package doesn’t date. And you can’t make me.” I sounded like a little kid who didn’t want to eat her peas, and I wondered how long I was going to be able to hold out against him. Good Lord—pun totally intended—the man’s intensity was searing. This was a prime reason why he was the absolute worst person to break the dating rule with. He wouldn’t just be demanding—he’d want everything. And I didn’t have it in me to give. So we were at an impasse.

“I’m taking you out. You’ll get over it.”

I opened my mouth to deliver a resounding no way in hell, but banging on the other side of the door had me snapping it shut.

“What, Mathieu?” Lord called.

“You nekkid?” Mathieu asked.

“Fucking kid,” Lord breathed, sidestepping us both away from the door and releasing me. “Come on in.”

Mathieu pushed it open, and in one hand he was holding a bottle of wine and, in the other, a small, square piece of paper.

Lord grabbed both the bottle and the paper.

“Mother. Fucker,” Lord growled, reading whatever it said.

I got a look at the label. Dom Perignon. A shiver of disgust worked through me. That was what I’d drunk one night over eight years ago and gotten so obliterated I could’ve killed someone and not even remembered it. The last night I’d had a drop of alcohol.

Keep it away. Keep it far, far away.

Lord walked over to me and held out the bottle. I made no move to take it. Mathieu must have sensed the impending explosion because he backed out of the room and closed the door.

“You see this? This is not how Rix usually operates. This is what he breaks out for a classy broad. Not even fifteen minutes, and he’s trying to stake his claim. It’s an insult to me, because he’s saying loud and clear either he doesn’t believe you’re really taken, or he thinks you’re worth going head-to-head with me to win.”

“It—it’s not like I asked for it,” I stuttered. “I don’t—”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s thrown down. He’s watching. Waiting. And that’s just too fucking bad.”

I’d lost complete control of the situation—that was clear. I’d just wanted to work at Chains to find something precious to me on the long shot that someone might pawn or sell it here. That’s it. That’s all. The sexy scenery provided by Lord’s presence—and the potential for a wild night with him—had been a bonus. I certainly wasn’t looking to become the prize in some street throw down that I couldn’t even begin to understand. This was bad. Very bad. My eyes darted to the bottle of Dom. I didn’t use booze to calm the shitstorms in my life anymore, and I wasn’t about to start again over something I didn’t even truly understand.

“I’m really going home now,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

Lord studied me. “You looking to run away, Elle? I can’t promise I’m not gonna chase.”

“Seriously? Who are you? Did you have a personality transplant?” I turned my back on him and began rambling to myself. “The man barely speaks to me and now he’s saying he’s going to chase me? Oh, and he wants to date me? Seriously? And now some gangster is sending Dom? I need to go home. I need a weekend and a do-over.” I closed my fingers over the doorknob and twisted, but a big hand on my elbow stopped me from pulling it open.

It took every ounce of my willpower to not look over my shoulder or down at the hand on my arm.

Lord’s voice was low. “This isn’t me having a personality transplant. This is about me protecting you from someone you don’t even have the good sense to be afraid of and going after what I want. If you weren’t so fucking sexy and sweet and quirky, maybe both Rix and I would have a shot at resisting you.”

I felt my resolve start to crumble. I was going to be in so much trouble. I had my rules for a reason. And it was clear that if I gave in to Lord, I’d lose the independence I was so fiercely protective of. I couldn’t sacrifice that piece of myself. I didn’t trust him—or anyone—enough to give them that kind of chance. But how was I supposed to fight this? I wanted him.

“I’m calling a time out,” I said.

“This is the game of life, sweet thing. No time outs until you’re done breathin’.” And with that, he spun me and tugged my body against his. My hands pressed flat against rock hard slabs of muscle. “And besides, a time out means I don’t get to kiss you, and I haven’t done nearly enough of that yet.”

Lord slowly slid his hand up my arm, as if waiting for me to bolt, but instead I stood mesmerized by him. His words. His touch. His blazingly blue eyes. He skimmed his thumb up my throat, and tilted my chin even higher as he bent toward me. I closed my eyes just as his lips brushed mine. Light, lazy touches. And then, in an instant, he cradled my jaw and … took. There was no other word for it. His tongue delved inside my mouth, dueling with mine, drawing me into the kiss against my better judgment. I knew I should be backing away, but I was rushing forward. I didn’t remember moving them, but my hands were gripping his shirt, clutching at him to keep him close.