Savage Rhythm

By: Chloe Cox


A hint of a smile flickered at the corner of his full lips, the softness there offset by the scruff on his jaw.

“Yes,” he said.

He didn’t seem to think he needed to say anything else.

Molly swallowed. She hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t thought he would just straight up own the caveman thing. Did this mean she was in his territory? Part of his territory?

The idea both turned her on and infuriated her.

Declan studied her face and smiled. He was amused. “You’re mad I took care of that guy,” he said. A statement, not a question.

“No,” she said, maybe too quickly. “Maybe. It’s just that I could have taken care of him myself. I’m not helpless.”

“No one said you were.”

“No, you only acted like it.”

What the hell was she doing? Picking a fight with Declan Donovan? It was like the childish, try-hard version of trying to impress him. She knew she had a valid point, but that wasn’t all she was reacting to. She was reacting to Declan himself. To how overwhelmed she felt just standing next to him. Like she had to fight for every breath, every thought that was not about him.

What would happen when she was stuck on a tour bus with him twenty four hours a day?

Oh God.

He was still looking at her. Calm. His hand hot and heavy on her hip. Jesus. She had to draw a line, here and now, before she lost control of the whole project.

“Your hand—” she started.

His voice cut through the air, sharp and strong.

“Tell me your name.”

Without even thinking, she told him. “Molly Ward.”

She blinked. She’d just…obeyed. The look on his face said he’d noticed. His thumb pressed into her hip bone a little bit more.

“The writer,” he said, almost to himself, his voice a low, satisfied hum. “Ain’t that lucky.”

Whoa. Danger, Will Robinson. Molly shook her head and stepped back to get free of his molten touch, and immediately felt more in control. Jesus, but the man was lethal.

She forced herself to look him in the eye and said, “You need to keep your hands off of me.”





chapter 2



Declan removed his hand, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Molly Ward. He missed contact with her already. He hadn’t even thought about it, just put his hand on her, like it was normal. It took both of them too long to realize it wasn’t.

This was something.

“As you wish,” he said.

Molly looked at him sideways and then rewarded him with a sly smile. “Don’t Princess Bride me, Declan Donovan,” she said. “I have a feeling you only obey orders when it amuses you.”

And where had this woman come from?

“You would be correct,” he said, grinning. “What clued you in?”

“This is a Club Volare event, right?”

Declan let his eyes drift south momentarily to the straining buttons on the front of Molly’s shirt. No button should be put through that. Come to think of it, no man should be put in close proximity to a woman like this if she was going to be off limits. Especially not on a tour bus. For eight weeks. His balls ached just thinking about it. She was dressed up in a way he could tell wasn’t natural for her, just by the way she held herself, and yet damn. Those curves. Those brown eyes. That dirty blonde hair, starting to wisp out of that bun and play around her face.

Fuck me.

He said, “You should know, that won’t be the last time I touch you.”

Declan believed in honesty. There was no shortage of women willing to throw themselves on his dick, but this one seemed determined to avoid his touch like the plague, even though it visibly turned her on. Nipples didn’t lie, not when they were tight and poking through her cheap shirt, and neither did her dilated pupils or her flushed skin, and if she cared to look down she’d have seen how freaking hard he was already. There was just no explaining physical chemistry, and between the two of them it was potent. All the physical indicators he’d trained himself to recognize as a Dom screamed, “Do me now!”

And yet she was telling him no.

He’d always liked a challenge.

Molly stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“That won’t be the last time I touch you,” he said again. “Only next time, you’ll beg me to.”