I grin, making our teeth clank together. “No, you certainly don’t.” I melt my smiling lips into hers, drinking her in, absorbing her, making us one person again.

“You’re my favorite weapon,” she breathes into our kiss.

I slide my hands down to her ass, clenching my fingers around her cheeks in a bruising grip, and pick her up. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively.

“You’re my favorite target,” I say, swiping my tongue into her mouth, tasting her, needing her. My cock threatening to rip from my pants if I don’t free it.

Kicking the door open, I stalk into my room until my knees hit the mattress, then lay her out on my bed. I loosen my tie, then remove it, and toss it to the floor. Then I unbutton my shirt, wanting to rip the buttons the fuck off. Winter opens her legs wide for me, her dress bunched up around her waist.

Fucking hell. I’m going to annihilate her.

I throw my shirt to the ground, then empty my pockets onto my nightstand just as my phone flashes light into the dark room from a received text. Winter springs up, bracing herself on her elbows with a scowl.

“You did not actually text a woman!”

The corner of my mouth lifts into a smirk. “Hey, Gin Blossoms, you jealous?”

A laugh bubbles in her chest. She narrows her eyes on mine as I slide my hands up her thighs, hooking my fingers over the top of her panties.

“No, just territorial. Is that a woman?”

I tug her panties down her thighs, holding my smirk firmly in place. She’s jealous, so damn jealous.

“I texted Preston, Baby Bulldog. For reasons beyond me, I have zero interest in other women. Just you. Even though you are the most seismically exasperating woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Winter pushes forward, sitting at the edge of the bed. I lift her dress over her head and throw it to the floor. Her hands snap forward and her fingers work hard at unbuttoning my pants. She pushes them down, along with my boxer briefs, freeing my rock-hard cock. I step out of my pants while Winter grips my shaft with one hand and my balls with the other.

“Fuck,” I grit, growing harder when she strokes and squeezes at the same time.

I slide both of my hands through her hair, gripping her head with both hands as she lowers her mouth over my cock.

“Christ.” I grind my teeth when her tongue circles the head, lapping the pre-cum like it’s a goddamn melting popsicle. “Mine, Winter. You’re fucking mine.”

TWENTY-ONE

WINTER

“Mine, Winter. You’re fucking mine,” Aleck grits through his teeth.

And for the first time in our relationship, I don’t argue. Because he’s right. I am his. Whatever that means. I welcome wherever that revelation takes us because I want Aleck. I want all of him and from the sounds of it, he wants me, too.