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A move I only allowed because that prissy little answer had me growling at her, jerking to my feet, grabbing her by the arm, and dragging her deeper into me.
I pinched her chin between my thumb and pointer finger then snapped, “What you are ismine.”
Her nostrils flared. “Make up your mind, Digger. Am I or aren’t I? Stop sending mixed messages.”
Dammit, she was right. In a way. But I was trying to protect her. Didn’t she get that?
“What’s mixed about this?” I snarled, urging our mouths to collide.
As she sagged into me with a whimper, triumph roared inside my Neanderthal brain, which was ridiculous, but said Neanderthal didn’t give a damn.
I thrust my tongue between her lips, uncaring that we were standing on the side of the road. I fucked her there like I couldn’t fuck her how I wanted to, uncaring that my bike was propped up by me and me alone.
Crazy as it might be, I knew I was all in. She was too fucking innocent and too deep in the shit with her family, however, to be able to make that decision for herself right now.
The only thing that mattered was my prissy princess knowing that she fucking belonged to me, which, in the long run, meant I’d save her from herself if I had to.
A moan escaped her, one that I swallowed, as I took the kiss too far. She was sweet and kind and gentle and all things soft and tender, but this kiss wasn’t.
I claimed her with my body like I couldn’t with my brand.
I owned her at that moment, and her sweet supplication was proof of that ownership.
My hands held her waist fast, fingers digging into her curves while hers moved over my shoulders, unable to settle, needing to touch me wherever and however she craved.
When I pulled back, her mewl of distress set itself on repeat in my brain. I knew I’d never forget that soft sound, knew that it would haunt me for years because the moment she walked through those gates, I had a feeling I’d never see her again.
It made it harder to let go of her.
Made it impossible to do anything other than press kisses along her jawline, savoring the scent of her, enjoying how she melted into me.
“Will they frisk you?”
My words didn’t match my actions, but she was goop in my arms and she mumbled, “Doubt it.”
“Good. I’m going to give you a piece and another cell phone. I’m going to wait out here until I hear from you, okay?”
She stiffened in my arms. “Then what?”
“I’ll wait for your call. Whether that’s to invite me in or to tell me what’s going on,” I said calmly. “If you want to do it this way, MC, then you gotta accept the fact that they’re more than likely going to put a bullet between my eyes for stealing you away.”
She blinked at me, slowly,dazedly. “No! I didn’t… No, that’s not what I want…” Her fingers clutched at me. “I just don’t want your people to get hurt.”
“Neither do I. That’s why I’m going to let you go in there when every goddamn bone in my body is saying that if I do, this is the last time I’ll ever see you.”
Her eyelashes batted again, not in a coy way, just in a bewildered one. “You don’t really think that, do you?”
“I don’t think they’ll kill you. I just don’t think they’ll let us be together.” My mouth tightened as I cupped her jaw. “But, here’s the thing, MaryCat. The only orders I obey are from my Prez. Not a bunch of fucking mobsters.
“You were talking about brands earlier. My life ain’t easy. My life is dirty. You think your father’s is, but it ain’t by comparison. Your people wear slick suits and four-hundred-dollars-an-ounce aftershave. They dress their women in designer labels and go to church on Sundays. Theyappearoutwardly respectable.
“The Sinners don’t do that. We don’t wear suits and sure, some of us wear aftershave, but hell, I don’t even fucking shave every day. I don’t give a damn about seeing you in designer labels, not when I’d prefer you to wear nothing at all, and I definitely don’t go to fucking church unless the Sinners’ council has hauled my ass to a meeting. Nothing about us is respectable—”
“Maybe I’m not either,” she retorted indignantly.
Unable to stop myself, I grinned at her. “Baby girl, you’re the most respectable thing I’ve seen in decades. I just bet you wear a hat and gloves to church, don’t you?” When her cheeks turned bright pink, I had my answer. My grin twisted. Sagged. “You’re too good for the likes of me.”
“No,” she ground out. “That’s not true!”
