“I know this was Cassie’s deranged ass!” he growled, fist balling up, and even his anger was a sight to see.
The veins in his forearms told me he didn’t just work out; he worked out heavy. His whole body was tight, shoulders bunched up like he was two seconds from swinging, jaw working overtime like he was biting back words that would get him in trouble.
He was breathing hard; that compression shirt stretched tight across every cut, every ridge, showing off exactly what all that training and discipline bought you. His eyes held a dangerous intensity that should've made me step back, but instead, heat pooled low in my belly.
“Y’all just standing around while my shit burns down to the ground? Who’s in charge?”
His mouth kept moving, and the spell cracked.
He had me fucked up. I didn’t care if this man could craft basketball poetry. I didn’t care that he looked carved by ancestors who understood the assignment. I didn’t care that his voice was doing things that made me feel like a groupie.
At my scene? In front of my crew? After the night I’d had? He was going to simmer down.
“Sir, you need to stay back.” Officer Davis called out, trying to intercept.
“Stay back? The fuck you mean, stay back?” his tone sharpened, growing rougher. “That’s my property, muthafucka. I can be wherever I damn well please."
He tried pushing past Davis. That’s when I moved.
My hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. Before he could register what was happening, I had yanked him back hard enough that his large frame stumbled backward into the side of his truck. The shock on his face when he looked down at me would’ve been funny if I weren’t so tired, hungry, and completely done with the bullshit of my twelve-hour shift.
“Stay. Back.” I accentuated each word, projecting an authority that made grown men snap to attention. I was undefeated. “I don’t care if you own this house, the block, or the whole damn city. This is my scene, which means I own you right now. Take one more step toward my perimeter, and I’ll have you arrested.”
His gaze fixed on mine before a smirk crept across his face. This close, I inhaled secretly, savoring the amber, iris, and neroli notes of his cologne. The sweat mixing with the smoke was dangerous. I could tell he had just come from an early practice. Sunlight hit the gold chain he never took off, and for half a second, I forgot I was holding him. I could feel heat radiating off him.
“You know who I am?” he asked, licking his juicy, full lips, like that was supposed to mean something. Fire flashed in his eyes, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if it was real from the fire consuming the right wing of his house or just the burning desire in his eyes—lowkey matching mine.
“Yeah, and I don’t give a damn.” I stepped in closer, chest rising with each breath. “You don’t run anything out here but your mouth.”
His smirk didn’t move. “This may be how y’all talk to the citizens of Silverrun,” he said slowly, like he was testing how far he could push. “But I’m DaVinci Bryns and….”
“And what?” I cut him off.
“And this little mama, ain’t gon’ fly no matter how fucking cute you are.”
Did he just...? The audacity.
“Cute?” I repeated, laughing without humor. “I’ll show you cute. You’re about to catch an obstruction charge if you don’t stay in your square. Now. STAY. BACK.”
His pupils blew wide, jaw flexing hard, but it wasn’t anger that caught me—it was the way his gaze dipped to my mouth when I snapped the order like the word back had done something to him. I wasn’t fucking around, but he was eating it up. The corner of his lip twitched, almost like he wanted to grin, and that told me everything I needed to know.
He liked it.
“Oh, you’re enjoying this?” I asked, flashing a quick smile.
His nostrils flared, and he stepped closer instead of back. He was so close I had to tilt my head to hold his eyes. And what beautiful eyes they were. They were sharp, damn near black, focused with that intensity that said he'd never blink first or back down.
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