“Let me touch them,” he wheezes, and before I can stop him, he has my ankle in his hands, my foot in his lap, and my shoe popped off and he is basically masturbating my big toe.
The burger I had so lovingly devoured not even ten minutes ago is churning in my stomach. Unwilling to cause a scene, I squeeze my eyes closed and pray that I will just die on spot.
“Get your fucking hands off my woman.”
My eyes snap open at the venom-filled voice at my back.
“Drop her goddamn foot now before I rip your hands off your body.”
The danger in his threat causes me to shiver, and his hand is immediately at the base of my neck. His fingers curl and flex against my skin, causing me to shiver again. All thoughts of my poor, molested toes completely fly out the window.
“Being as she is here as my date, I think it’s safe to say that she isn’t your woman.”
Oh what an idiot.
“You have two goddamn seconds to remove your hands before I take your fingers and break each one. Then, when I’m done, I’ll snap your wrist before moving to your fucking elbows. And if I feel like being nice, I might leave your arms at that. She. Is. Mine.”
I try to remove my foot from his hold, but his fingers clamp tightly around my ankle, causing me to whimper from the pain. Neither one of them notices, but as the tension climbs between the two of them, Phil’s fingers get tighter and tighter.
Asher’s hand is still holding me at the base of my neck, and it feels as if the two are having some weird tug-of-war minus the tug. I whimper again when Phil’s fingers get even firmer against my skin. I can feel my toes, those damn toes, starting to tingle with the loss of blood flow, and just when I thought his hold couldn’t get any more painful, he proves me wrong.
The raw cry that escapes my lips shocks even me and has both of the men whipping their eyes in my direction. Phil takes my cry as one of pleasure, and I can see him puffing out his chest. Asher comes around, not removing his hold but curling his fingers up the side of my neck and holding my cheek in his palm. His eyes look into mine for a beat. I can see the vehement intensity of his anger in those beautiful blue eyes. His gaze travels down my body until he sees the cause of my pain. When he looks quickly back up at me, I see the danger in his observation. He never breaks his stare. I see his other hand move in my peripheral, but I don’t dare break the connection to him.
I hear Phil cry out in pain a second before my leg is dropped. Asher doesn’t waste a second. After pulling out his wallet, he throws a few bills down then scoops me up in his arms and marches out the doors. I duck my head in the crook of his neck, running my nose along his warm skin and feeling safe.
Safe and protected.
He doesn’t say anything. Walking with a steadfast determination to his Jeep, he unlocks the door with ease then sets me gently down before buckling my belt and jogging over to his side.
And just like that, we’re taking off towards the apartment at a speed that matches the rapid beats of my heart.
Chapter 12 – Asher
I can’t stop the rage that has fully consumed my every emotion. I can’t even focus without seeing a red haze clouding my vision. When I walked through those doors and saw that motherfucker’s hands on Chelcie, I believed myself capable of murder. Cold, hard murder, and I didn’t give a fuck that I had witnesses surrounding me. My soul was demanding that I claim what is mine—that I tear that piece of shit to pieces for even breathing her air.
He’s lucky the only thing I did was snap his wrist to get him to remove his hold on her body. That still didn’t satisfy the primal animal that is snarling to be set free. It’s the same feeling I get when I think about what happened to Coop. That need to wrong a right, to claim what’s mine.
Images of Chelcie, her eyes closed and his fingers touching her feet, bombard my mind again, and I swerve my Jeep over a few lanes. Pulling off onto the shoulder of the highway, I rip off my seatbelt and jump out of the Jeep before slamming the door with enough force to rock the whole vehicle.
I’m fighting every instinct in my system to turn the car around and kill. I’m at war with myself and I am too out of control to correct it. I need to claim, to mark, and to prove that she is mine.