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Giving me a gentle pull, he starts walking, and I follow a step behind him. “Why were you there?” he asks.
“I think the real question is… why were you there?” I bite back. “If I need to answer, you go first.”
“I go there to think and drink. Usually, no one bothers me. I like the music, and people know to fuck off.”
“So who’s the blonde?” I ask, pressing further. “You seem to have a thing for blondes.” I don’t look at him when I say it.
“I have a thing for bookstore owners, it would appear.”
“Hmm…” Swallowing hard, I keep my mouth shut.
“I have a thing for a woman who can pull me from my deepest thoughts and hate with one glance. Do you think that’s okay?”
“Is she blonde?” I snark, and his hand tightens around mine.
“Now you answer, why were you there?” he asks again.
“I wanted to see if he had heard anything.”
“And?” Joey stops, making me stop too.
“He said he hasn’t been back,” I answer, bringing my gaze to his.
“Why do you care?” I shake my head and turn away, unwilling to give him any more information. “Give me your phone,” he demands, holding out his hand.
“Why?”
“Darling, give me your phone.” I hate when he calls me that because it makes me want to do as he asks. I pull out my phone and hand it to him, knowing he’s not going to be happy with what he finds. However, he doesn’t let go of my hand as he unlocks it and finds exactly what he’s looking for. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he asks angrily.
“It’s not your problem. We aren’t married. We just fuck, remember?” I tell him with a shrug that only pisses him off more.
“Itismy problem.” He growls and hands me back my phone. “You tell me if he contacts you again.”
“Sure.” I shrug again and turn away.
“Adora.” He pulls me back so he can see me, then turns me just as fast until my back hits the wall. The street is quiet, but it’s not dead. “My sweet, darling, feisty Adora.” The way he speaks has my knees weakening. His lips move in and touch my neck, and I let them, welcoming them with a tilt of my head. His free hand moves to the waistband of my pants, his fingers sliding back and forth, teasing my skin above the material.
“Joey.”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing?”
“It seems I have an issue keeping my hands to myself when you’re around.”
“I can see that,” I say as his lips move back up and touch my lips. They’re soft, tender at first, until he starts to get more demanding. So controlling. His fingers slip beneath my waistband, and his body presses flush against mine. I can feel him hard against me, and I start to move, not even caring where we are.
He feels good.
Too good.
“Damn, get a room. Or better yet, give us a piece of that ass.” His body stays pressed against me, but he releases my hand. His lips leave mine, the taste of whiskey going with him. I drop my head into the crook of his neck as he looks at whoever is there. When I turn my head, I see Joey has a gun in his hand, raised at the two men standing to the left of us.
“One bullet or two? You pick.”
“Fuck, man, we didn’t mean anything.”
“One,” Joey counts and lets off a bullet. The ring echoes through the night, and the guys take off running. He slides the gun into his jeans as he looks back at me. “Where were we?”
