Page 49

I try to think of something smooth to say, but little Mad Dog has joined the conversation. “Fuckin’ A?”

Willa rasps out a laugh before resting her head on my shoulder. “Fuckin’ A.”

Willa

“Ready, babe?”

Mad Dog holds his hand out, ready to accompany me out of the car door he opened for me. Am I ready? Not really. Not when I’ve had so much fun just chewing the fat with him in the backseat of a chauffeured car.

“As I’ll ever be,” I mutter, grasping his rough, tattooed hand.

I hunch down, making sure I don’t accidentally step on my dress as I get out. I stand, smoothing down the silky fabric that cost me way too much. I mean, I could have said no to Pops, but I did fall in love with this dress and I was hoping Mad Dog would too.

Mad Dog lets out a deep breath as he looks around. There’s a red carpet where fancy folk are having their photos taken and I know exactly what he’s going to do when he turns to grin at me.

“Mad Dog!” I hiss as he tugs me in the direction of the photographer. “Aren’t we meant to be laying low?”

He gives me a look. “Willa. I’m old, rough and tattooed with a fucking gorgeous woman on my arm. There ain’t no laying low tonight.” He throws me a wink and ignores my eye roll.

You know what? Screw it. We both look good, like really good so we may as well ham it up for the cameras.

He pulls me close, his arm wrapping around my back, bicep hard as he presses me into his side. My palm rests flat against his hard stomach and I can’t help the heat pooling between my thighs.

“Look at me like you wanna eat me,” I murmur, wanting to tease Mad Dog a little.

“Jesus hell, babe, you made me forget to smile.” Mad Dog grumbles before pulling me tighter into him. So tight I can feel the hard length in his trousers. “Stand there so no one gets an eyeful.”

I press myself even tighter to him, his little hiss of breath ghosting across the back of my neck, sending shivers up my spine.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he mutters. And don’t I fucking know it.

I know I was the one who asked to be friends. Who demanded there be nothing more. But the more time we’ve spent together lately, the more I’ve come to enjoy Mad Dog. Which is kinda inconvenient. When we were just having sex I could tell myself that it was his body I liked. The way he moved, his mouth on me, him inside me. But being friends with Mad Dog screwed that all up because it turns out I also kinda like him without all the sex stuff and I’m not brave enough to jump in with both feet. So, tonight I’m going to follow Pops’ instructions and just dip a toe. That way if I need to pull back or hide I can do that. I think. Shit, I hope.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?” I turn my face to look up at Mad Dog not expecting him to cup my cheek gently, or press his lips to mine.

My hands grip his tuxedo jacket as I struggle to lock my knees, keeping myself upright as his warm, thick lips press gently against mine, his tongue briefly dipping into my mouth, just a taste before he sips at my lips. Blinking my eyes open, all my senses come back online at the same time, the flashes of the camera and the ear piercing whistles and claps of our friends overwhelm me, but there, in the background is Mad Dog’s strong arm wrapped around my back, holding me steady.

“You taste so fucking sweet, Willa.” I gape at him, unable to form sentences just yet. Not even when he leans forward, presses his lips to my ear, his beard rasping the sensitive skin of my neck, “Thank you.”

I swallow, blink a couple of times then straighten his jacket. “Yup, not mad at all.” I pat his chest and try to hide my smile as he escorts me inside toward our crew.

“Game time, baby.”

“Yup, game face on.” I agree, looping my arm with Joy’s as she and Switch join us.

The DRMC paid for a whole table near the front. How much this cost I have no idea, and I don’t want to know. Everyone here looks super rich, judging by the amount of hair plugs, Botox and fake boobs on show. Mad Dog pulls my chair out, waiting for me to sit before scooching me closer to the table.

“Wine?” he asks, brows raised and I look around the table.

The rest of the women are all nodding, so why the hell not? I’ve never really been a wine drinker, or an anything drinker. When it came to life with Diesel it was better to keep my wits about me. With Mad Dog? I know he has my back. And that’s a fucking jarring thought in and of itself. One that I’m going to drown in free wine for a moment or two.

“Face it, sweetheart, you’re a goner,” Pops says from across the table before toasting me.

“I would argue with you -”

“But?”