He tried to pin me to the ground, but I broke free, thanking my high school wrestling coach for that little move. Guess muscle memory never dies. Then I kicked out, catching him and throwing him to the side as I jumped back to my feet. All bets were off now, and I kicked him again, this time in the ribs. I actually heard them breaking—Mikey-boy better hope he hadn’t punctured a lung. The kid moaned, rolling to the side.

“You out?” I snarled. He started to nod, then Talia shrieked at him.

“You ever wanna be in this club? Fight like a fuckin’ man!”

Jesus. Christ.

Bitch’d get him killed at this rate. Mike tried to push himself back up again, moving painfully slow. He was gonna force me to end it. Moron. I caught the front of his shirt, positioning him for one final punch to knock him out. Five seconds later he was on the ground, and this time he wasn’t moving.

Raising my head, I stared at Talia.

“You happy now?” I snarled. She giggled, nodding her head. “Then get over here.”

She scampered toward me as the men around us laughed, money changing hands. Nobody lifted a finger to help Mike. Guess he was just collateral damage, poor bastard. Grabbing Talia around her biceps, I dragged her toward the corner of the building, because she’d had her fun and now it was time to pay. We passed the corner and I marched her into the darkness.

“Cooper, you were so hot,” she said breathlessly. I slammed her against the wall. She dropped a hand down to my dick, massaging me through the denim of my jeans, and I realized I was hard. Adrenaline from the fight, combined with the lingering memory of Tinker’s soft smile.

I wrapped a hand around Talia’s throat, squeezing just hard enough to hurt her. She laughed, stroking me faster. Woman had no fear and no common sense. Bitch was getting off on it, I swear.

“Time for you to learn some fucking rules,” I snarled. “You like to play games, you need to find yourself a different man. I let you get away with it tonight. You pull that shit again, we’re done.”

Talia’s lips opened and she panted, eyelids drooping. I felt her fingers fumbling with my pants and then she was unzipping me, pulling my cock out into the hot night air. I tightened my grip around her throat again and she moaned, her hand pumping me hard and fast.

I closed my eyes and thought of Tinker. Fuck, what I’d give to have her up against a wall like this . . .

“I’ll make it up to you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Groaning, I lifted one of her legs and wrapped it around my waist, grinding against her. The little skirt she wore rode up until the only thing between us was the fabric of her thong. Jesus. My cock was so hard I thought it might split—apparently the fact that I hated this cunt didn’t matter one bit, because my body wanted to fuck her. She choked and I realized I’d started squeezing harder.

Letting her throat go, I dug my fingers into her hair and jerked her head back.

“No more games.”

“No more games,” she whispered, eyes bright with excitement, and I knew she was lying. Bitch lived to play games.

“Then suck my cock.”

She dropped to her knees in an instant, wrapping both hands around my dick as she licked the tip. Talia had many, many faults, but her blow job skills weren’t in question, that was for damned sure. She played with me for several minutes, stoking the need that’d been burning through me all evening. First it was good. Then it wasn’t enough. Grabbing her hair, I pushed deeper into her mouth and she took it like a pro, opening wide and sucking me down. Her fingers moved to my balls, one hand toying with them while the second massaged directly behind, her firm pressure on the root of my cock almost more than I could bear.

Then she pushed forward, taking me deep into her throat.

Fucking hell.

I closed my eyes, wondering how a woman I hated this much could make me feel so good. I imagined Tinker on her knees like this, and my balls drew up tight, heavy with come. God, I could see it now. Bright red lipstick and those straight-cut bangs hanging over her big eyes. She’d stare up at me and I’d wind her hair around my hands and fuck her mouth forever, just because I could.

Talia moved faster now, and she sent a finger wandering back to my ass. It pushed against the opening then slid inside. Her mouth was hot and wet, her throat closed tight around me as she found the spot that made me gasp. I imagined Tinker again, licking her lips, and my balls exploded into Talia’s throat. Over and over again I pumped, shooting her full of my frustration and anger and come until she nearly choked on it.

Finally I let my hands drop and pulled my cock free. Talia stared up at me in coy triumph.

“You’ll always come back for that,” she said. I shook my head slowly.

“You’re good, Talia, but I’m not your bitch. You want a man you can give orders to, find someone else. I meant what I said—you’re mine, not the other way around. We clear?”

She shrugged, standing slowly. Then she leaned into me, dropping a hand down to squeeze my ass.

“Clear,” she said. “Now let’s go back inside. I want to see how bad Mike is hurt. You could’ve killed him, you know.”

I could kill you.

“He’ll be fine,” I snapped. “Hope you enjoyed your moment of glory.”

She reached down, cupping my softening cock. “Oh, I enjoyed it. You have no idea. Now buy me a drink—I need to rinse out my mouth.”

TINKER

The next couple weeks passed quickly enough. Work was crazy, because not only did I have my regular orders to fill, but I’d gotten a major order from a law firm looking to hire my future ex, Brandon. He was hot shit, of course. I knew this because he told me regularly, but also because people were always trying to lure him into private practice. He wouldn’t go—not with the King County Prosecuting Attorney’s office up for grabs—but none of that mattered to me. We might be getting a divorce, but I still had a business to run. That’s why my part-time shop assistant—Randi—and I were so busy that I closed the tea shop entirely so we could focus on production. This wasn’t a particularly big deal, seeing as we never sold anything anyway.

As for Cooper, there wasn’t much to tell. Eventually I decided that I’d imagined the tension between us. Not that I could complain about his work ethic—he kept himself busy enough, but whenever we ran into each other, he was only casually friendly. He’d give me a wave or we’d discuss work around the place, but his eyes were distant. Blank.