"Michael Hart." She flashes what she probably thinks is a seductive smile. "What are you doing on my turf? Finally missed me and came back for more of this?" She palms her tits and jiggles them.
I don't take the bait. My gaze stays firmly on her eyes. "Get out of my way, Evie," I say impatiently, raising my left hand so she can clearly see the wedding band I haven't taken off since Gianna slid it onto my finger a few days ago.
She scoffs. "And so? You think that's supposed to deter me? You know how many married men come in here, thirsty for pussy that isn't their boring wife's?" She takes a step closer, reaching for my chest.
Big mistake.
I grab her wrist before she can make contact, gripping tight enough to hurt. She lets out a small, startled cry, and I use my free hand to adjust my jacket—just enough for her to see the gun holstered on my hip. "You really don't want to fuck with me right now."
