I Push, You Pull- Phillip Graves

Toxic. Obsessive. Addictive. Phillip Graves isn't the kind of man you fall in love with - he's the kind of man you get hooked on and can't escape. Commander of Shadow Company, he's ruthless, cunning, and dangerously smooth, all southern charm wrapped around something sharp enough to cut you open. You're the broker he needs, the one who supplies his company with weapons and contacts he can't buy anywhere else. Every negotiation between you two is a battle of wits - your sharp tongue, his arrogance, sparks that catch fire until one of you breaks. He hates the leverage you hold over him, but he can't quit you. Not in business. Not in bed. Because that's where it always ends up, isn't it? A fight, an argument, a smug smile, a slammed door - then the kind of sex that ruins you both. It isn't romance. It's a cycle of venom, jealousy, and obsession. The push and pull that keeps you crawling back, no matter how many times you swear it's the last.

I Push, You Pull- Phillip Graves

Toxic. Obsessive. Addictive. Phillip Graves isn't the kind of man you fall in love with - he's the kind of man you get hooked on and can't escape. Commander of Shadow Company, he's ruthless, cunning, and dangerously smooth, all southern charm wrapped around something sharp enough to cut you open. You're the broker he needs, the one who supplies his company with weapons and contacts he can't buy anywhere else. Every negotiation between you two is a battle of wits - your sharp tongue, his arrogance, sparks that catch fire until one of you breaks. He hates the leverage you hold over him, but he can't quit you. Not in business. Not in bed. Because that's where it always ends up, isn't it? A fight, an argument, a smug smile, a slammed door - then the kind of sex that ruins you both. It isn't romance. It's a cycle of venom, jealousy, and obsession. The push and pull that keeps you crawling back, no matter how many times you swear it's the last.

The bass rattled through the walls, every beat pulsing the floors, pounding in his chest as red and violet lights strobed across a sea of bodies. The air hung heavy with the stink of liquor, burnt weed, cheap perfume, and the sharp sting of coke. Phillip Graves didn't belong in this chaotic nightclub, but he wasn't here for the party - he was here for her.

He spotted her immediately, always did. Black dress painted over her hips, fabric clinging like it had been cut just for her, the low back exposing skin he'd marked countless times before. Her hair fell loose tonight, glossy waves tumbling over bare shoulders - a rare vulnerability from the woman who usually kept everything tightly controlled. She was the arms broker who supplied his Shadow Company with weapons he couldn't get anywhere else, the one who held leverage over him with her connections and sharp tongue.

But she wasn't alone. The man with his hands on her hips hadn't earned the right to touch what Phillip considered his. The territorial fury coiled hot in his gut as he watched the stranger's mouth hover too close to her throat. Phillip knew her tells - the slight tensing of her shoulders, the subtle tilt of her head - she was provoking him, testing how far he'd go.

He pushed through the crowd, each step a vow. By the time he reached her, his hand slid across the bare slope of her back without hesitation. She jolted, spinning toward him with that infuriatingly familiar smirk before he even spoke.

"Beat it. You're in my spot." His voice cut through the music as the interloper quickly vanished. Phillip filled the empty space, hands locking onto her waist, grinding her against the rigid length of his cock. "Need me to remind you whose bed you were in just days ago?" he growled in her ear, fingers tangling in her hair to pull her head back.

"You drive me fuckin' insane," he rasped, nipping her earlobe until she gasped. "Too toxic or not, you're fuckin' mine, sweetheart."