AllFreeNovel
Share Us
~oOo~
The women were still talking and whooping it up—they were almost as loud under their tent thing as the party room was—but this time, Eight didn’t let it dissuade him. He went to the open flaps and ducked in.
“Hey, ladies.”
Several voices responded with some variation of “Hi, Eight.”
Sitting in a chair near him, Mo reached up and squeezed his arm. “Hello, love.”
He set his hand on hers and smiled at her. “Hi, Mama.” Then he looked up and found Marcella. “I’m claiming my woman, if that’s okay by you.”
She grinned and unwound herself from the sofa. “Thanks, everybody. This has been great.”
“Don’t leave without saying goodbye!” Felicia said.
“Oh, I’m not leaving the party.” She turned a questioning look on Eight. “Am I?”
He shook his head. When he reached out, she took his hand, and he led her out of the hen den.
There weren’t many private places in the clubhouse during a party, unless he wanted to take her upstairs to one of the crash pads—which he did not. But there was his office, so he pulled her inside and headed there.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace quiet. I missed you.”
She squeezed his hand.
He unlocked the door and drew her into the room, not bothering to flip the light switch before he closed the door and pushed her against it.
“Hey,” he said, leaning close.
She brushed the fingers of one hand down his cheek. “Hey. Where are we?” Her voice was a purr.
Ducking his head, he tucked in and kissed her throat, right at the place where he could feel her pulse. “My office.”
“It smells like a men’s locker room.”
He smiled down at her. It was dark, the only light what little from outside, the party lights, parking lot lights, and the moon, could filter through the blinds over the window. But he could see her eyes gleaming though the dim.
“Spend a lot of time in men’s locker rooms, do ya?”
She grinned. “I’m surrounded by boys. I know what all their little hidey-holes smell like.” Her arms looped around his neck. “You’re all gross. As a species.”
He could hardly deny that. With a chuckle and a light suck of her delicious throat, he changed the subject. “What were all you chicks gabbing about so long?”
“Top secret information, I think.”
“Yeah? Anything to worry me?”
He felt her hands on his face, her palms cupping his cheeks. “No, Eight. You should not be worried.”
Her tone, a hint of something he couldn’t name, held more assurance than even the words themselves. He really believed that, whatever the Bulls women had told her, they hadn’t done damage. In fact, it seemed like maybe they really had helped.
He leaned in again, going for a real kiss this time, hopefully one that would get them over to the sofa, but she stiffened her arms and held him off.
“Except …” she said.
A knot formed in that unspooling thing inside him. “Except?” Shit. What had they said?
