TREY
I don’t hit women.
If anything, the sheer thought of laying a hand on a female repulses me to my core. It goes against every single code I’ve ever held.
But heaven knows, in this exact second, I’m f*****g tempted to make an exception.
My jaw clamps tight enough to crack teeth as I shove Natalia off me. I don't throw her down, but the force is harsh enough to make her stumble back a few paces, her heels wobbling violently on the gravel.
The circle of bottom-feeding bloggers holding up their smartphones goes instantly dead silent, holding their collective breath.
"Trey!" With a gasp, Natalia’s hand flies to her chest, her carefully painted face taking the form of betrayal. "What the f**k–why did you just do that?!"
I don't give her or the digital crowd waiting for a show a single
