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Motherfucker.
At the bar, Jos stood dressed in next to nothing. The jean shorts she wore left her ass cheeks hanging out, putting that perfect derriere on display for the entire bar to see as she bent forward, whispering into some douchebag’s ear. The shirt she wore couldn’t even be called that. It was shredded and knotted at her ribs, showing off the black bra she wore underneath.
All week she’d been showing up at the bar dressed like that, flirting and teasing any guy who looked twice at her.
Trying to grab my attention. Force my hand. Driving me so fucking crazy, I was about to implode from the pressure in my balls. Or explode with rage. Either would have caused a mess I wasn’t sure could ever be fully cleaned up.
Somehow, I’d kept my distance, not allowing myself to take even a step in her direction because I fucking knew if I so much as smelled her perfume, I would drag her away and fuck her until neither one of us could walk. But goddamn, it had been hard. I wanted her even more than before I’d taken her home the previous week. One night with her hadn’t cured me of this hunger that seemed to gnaw at my insides night and day.
The guy she was talking to put his hand at her waist, touching the skin I’d spent hours tasting and worshiping. His thumb skimmed under the top of her shorts, stayed there, and I knew I needed to leave before I ended killing the sonofabitch.
“I’m out of here,” I told my brother without looking in his direction. My gaze was locked on Jos, and from the tilt of her lips in that smug little smile, I knew she could feel me watching her. This was all a show, one for my benefit. “This place is a total sausage fest anyway. I’m going home. Got shit to do in the morning.”
“I’m headed to the clubhouse,” Matt told me. “Pay the tab.”
Muttering a curse, I pulled out my wallet as I walked toward the bar where Colt was washing glasses.
As I drew closer, Jos turned her head, her eyes rolling over me. The guy said something close to her ear and she bit her lip, but I could read everything she was thinking—and her thoughts weren’t on the little pussy-assed bitch standing in her personal space. I saw a flash of the hurt I’d already inflicted the week before, along with the same, never-ending hunger that lived inside of me like a parasite.
I clenched my fingers around the bills in my hand and tried to pull my eyes away from Jos as I reached the bar. Unsuccessfully.
“You leaving?” Colt’s voice didn’t have the power to pull my gaze from the way Jos’s eyes were begging me to come take her away from the guy she was with.
“Yeah,” I muttered, dropping the cash on the bar top.
Colt followed my gaze. “Don’t worry, I’m not letting her drink. She’s just having a little fun.”
“She’s getting herself into trouble is what she’s doing. She doesn’t have to be drinking to do that.”
Jos turned away, having heard what I’d just said, and pressed her hands to the guy’s chest. One hand started playing with the buttons on his shirt, while the other slid south teasingly, her fingertips tracing over the obvious hard-on in the guy’s jeans.
Mine.
A red haze washed over my eyes, and I was at the other end of the bar before I could even draw another breath. Grabbing her hand in a tight hold, I jerked her away from her friend and started dragging her toward the door.
“She’s with me, asshole,” the guy yelled behind us.
“Fuck off. I’m taking her home before she gets herself in trouble.”
“I don’t want to go home,” Jos said with a pout as I slammed through the door and out into the parking lot, stomping toward my bike. At least she wasn’t putting up a struggle, telling me she was getting exactly what she wanted from me.
“Too fucking bad,” I snarled, stopping only when we reached the motorcycle, and I thrust my helmet into her hands. “Get on the fucking bike, Jos.”
I tossed my leg over, waiting for her to climb on behind me. Without hesitating, she did, her arms locking around my abdomen, her cheek pressed to my back.
And just like that, most of the rage clouding my vision dissipated.
It left me feeling weak—and hard as fuck. I wanted her so goddamn bad I couldn’t breathe without it physically hurting.
Now what the fuck am I going to do?
I needed to take her home. Pound on Butch’s door until he opened up and promised me he wouldn’t let his little girl out of the house again until she was fifty.
That was the rational thing to do. The one that wouldn’t let me commit more sins than I already had with this female. But my cock was drilling into my zipper, begging for freedom. The feel of her hands on my stomach, her fingers sliding under my T-shirt and skimming along the top of my jeans, was driving me fucking crazy.
One more night.
That was all I needed. Just one more night and then I’d send her packing.
