Page 17 of Apple of His Eye

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Page 17 of Apple of His Eye

KOHEN

TWO WEEKS LATER

Life has been a whirlwind of difficulties.

No, that’s not quite right.

Let me try this again.

Life has been torturous.

Why?

Because of the little spitfire who tests my convictions and self-control every moment of every day. I’ve lived the last two weeks on the edge, caught between jealous rage or obsessed stalker. I can’t function without confirming she’s safe, and it’s taken a toll on our relationship. Mostly because I insisted she have a bodyguard of some sort every time she steps off the compound.

Everleigh has adjusted nicely since her arrival, though. She made fast friends with Mimi and Naya, charmed Millie into letting her help with the domestic chores in the clubhouse, and somehow has every Jackal wrapped around her little finger. Everyone dotes on her—loves her, even. She’s the little sister they always wanted but never got.

They even call her Snow, like she’s some fairy-tale princess.

That’s great… right?

That’s what I wanted… right?

Seems like my plan works well enough, because there hasn’t been any indication Fran or Raymond are looking for her. Fran was angry and desperate after Everleigh’s disappearance, but she’s been more worried about finding her next fix.

Then why can’t I shake the feeling something bad is coming our way? Everywhere I look, everywhere I go, I can’t take my eyes off the horizon. It’s like there is a darkness looming over our heads.

The darkness lessens when I am around her, though. The light she carries inside chases it away.

My Wildcat.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss. Of her and the way her small frame wrapped around me in response. I’ve spent countless nights reminding myself she deserves someone better and someone closer to her age.

But then she looks at me, opens her mouth, and challenges me. It’s maddening, but she is everything I want in a woman.

Fuck.

Then there was the afternoon I came back from a meeting at Coconuts and found her on the stage, her leg wrapped around the stripper pole we installed last year. She was wearing a pair of skimpy cotton shorts and a sports bra. Not only was Mimi there giving her fucking pointers, but a small group of Jackals had gathered to watch.

I nearly went unhinged on them all, but I held it in. I climbed onto the stage, shot a dangerous look at all of them and picked Everleigh up to carry her upstairs. She balked and demanded I put her down, but I didn’t listen.

She didn’t like that. I didn’t care.

She didn’t know what she was doing up on the pole, what she was inviting. I don’t care how many years of dance she did as a child. She didn’t see the way my brothers looked at her. They knew better. She didn’t.

She wasn’t just learning moves—not that she needed to learn them anyway, because there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to allow her to practice. The pole was there for girls who needed to make money. I supplied everything she needed, and if she wanted something more, all she had to do was ask.

She was pissed. Istilldidn’t care.

She didn’t talk to me for a few days.ThatI cared about.

I’d gotten used to her snark and bite. It felt off not having it to look forward to when I’d come back to the clubhouse. On those nights, we spent more watching one another than enjoying the festivities. I’d feel her eyes on me, and when I knew she wasn’t looking, I was watching her. It’s like we were playing a constant game of cat and mouse.

It intrigued me.

Sheintrigued me.

But I wouldn’t act on my interest, on the temptation she presented to me every day. I’d never allow her to stoop so low as a man like me. No matter how much I wanted her, or dreamed of her, or thought of her while jacking in my hand.




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