Page 7 of Falcon's Prey

Grabbing a cup, I filled it with ice and pulled a water bottle out of the fridge. My bong was still on the couch where I had left it. I grabbed that too, then opened the sliding door that led to my terrace.

The air was chilly, and my skin was still damp; it caused me to shiver. I threw my head back and closed my eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Lazily, I turned my head and then opened my eyes. Ren Falcon was standing a few feet away from me in jeans that rode low on his hips, the top of his boxers peeking through, washboard abs that looked Photoshopped, a gun tucked into his waist, and a cold stare on his gorgeous face. Fuck me, he had a tattoo. A half sleeve that went from his elbow to his wrist. It was too dark, but I could see shading and swirls. For a second, I imagined his inked hand running over my naked body.

He probably knew how to fuck like a god. Probably a selfish lover too. Definitely the latter—he looked like a selfish prick.

“I’m sunbathing.” I rolled my eyes at him. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks to me like you’re reckless,” he spat at me.

“I’m in the penthouse suite. No one is getting to me.” I dismissed his anger.

It had taken him five minutes for him to make up his mind about me. Well, fuck him. Ignoring him, I started to put the ice cubes I’d brought into my bong, and I added some water. I was about to grab some bud when he stood right behind me. My heart accelerated, and my hands got clammy. He leaned over the sofa I was lying on and grabbed my face in his palms. Not rough, but with enough force that I couldn’t move. He turned my head so I could look across the street to the other building and did the same to my other side. We were surrounded by skyscrapers.

“You’re rich, darling,” he said.

“No, really? I hadn’t noticed,” I sassed.

He ignored me and kept going. “The type of rich that requires a security team for you and your family. Now I don’t know about you, but I’d say with that comes with threats on a different scale than your average coked-out thug.”

Ren let go of one side of my face and brought his other hand to grip my chin.

“You see that building?” he asked as he pointed to it.

I obviously saw the building. He turned his face toward me, his nose grazing the shell of my ear and making me shiver.

“Someone could stand right there and blow your pretty little head off.”

My heart thumped, and I was sure it had nothing to do with the imagery he provided.

“Now that would suck for you, wouldn’t it? You’d be out of a job.” I tilted my head, making him lose his grip on me.

Our gazes collided, and it became a stare-off to see who would give in first. My eyes traveled down to his neck and his chest. Someone was cold.

“Get inside now,” he demanded. “It’s cold.”

“If you’re so cold, maybe you should go in.” I reached for my black velvet box and grabbed my pick of weed for the night.

Ren was still behind me, and he gave a dark chuckle once he got a good look at the contents of my box.

“You have no regard for your life,” he stated.

Ren did not leave; he walked around, making sure it was safe, then took a seat across from me. I pretended he wasn’t there while I broke down my bud and packed it.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“What?” I asked.

“You don’t need glitz to get high?”

I held up my bong, admiring the handiwork the people at Remington Diamonds had done. “It’s made out of crystal and our most luxurious diamonds.”

Ren shook his head. “People are starving and you do some stupid shit like this?”

I heard the disgust in his voice.