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“Tell me everything!”
“If I wanted you to kiss me, I would have said so,” I growled.
“This is so great!”
“You gonna tell me who that fucknut was?”
Narrowing my eyes, I seethed. “I said I didn’t know.”
“What guy? There is another guy?”
“You had no right,” I challenged.
“I had every right cupcake.”
“You already have a pet name! Oh, how sweet!”
“You ever kiss me again and I will cut off your dick.”
King smirked. “Oh Cupcake. I plan on doing that and more.”
Getting to my feet, I ignored King’s laughter as I stormed out of the coffee shop. There was no talking to the big ape. That man had no morals and, coupled with his delusions of grandeur, I was washing my hands of him. If he wanted to believe he was the President of the Sons of Hell, then who was I to stop him? He could live in his make-believe world and leave me the hell alone.
So what if I thought he was walking, talking, sex on a stick that I wanted to mount and ride into the sunset? Just thinking about that had my lady bits tingling with anticipation. But that wasn’t going to happen. Nope. Not ever. I was going to die a fucking virgin and the sooner I came to grips with that sad state of affairs, the quicker I could move on and forget about him.
Should have known that once I put it out there in the universe, fate would rear her maniacal head and squash all my dreams because when I woke up the next morning trapped in his beefy arms and my body desperately needing a seventy-two-hour respite, I knew I was in big trouble.
12hrs earlier…
Storming across the street, I entered my shop, unceremoniously slamming the door, then locked it for good measure. Not that it would keep him out. Apparently, the bastard was also good at picking locks. Stepping over the dead body on my floor, I headed for the back stairs. I couldn’t work because he broke my hand. I should sue the bastard for loss of damages. Stomping every step up the back stairs, I walked into my apartment and screamed.
“Fuck!”
When that didn’t work, I stomped some more, kicked a few boxes and even slapped the wall with my good hand. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have done that last part cause now my good hand throbbed. Kicking off my shoes, I walked over to the big, wonderful bed that the bastard bought and flung myself down on it.
Yes, I may have had a toddler moment when I kicked and pounded the mattress in a fit of temper, but in my defense, it was either the mattress or that big lug. Since he wasn’t here, the mattress got the beating.
Huffing, I laid there on that big comfortable bed stewing, trying my hardest to forget those warm, luscious lips against mine. His strong powerful arms caging me against his broad firm chest. I tried to ignore the searing heat that encompassed my body or the feral urges that he awakened. And like all the damn times before, the big bastard was standing in my doorway.
Looking over at him, I growled.
“Go away!”
Instead of listening, because let’s face it, the fucker only listened to the sound of his own voice, slammed my apartment door shut and stormed over to me. Before I could move, he was laying over me and kissing me again.
How had I gotten here?
In what fucked up reality did I cross over into that planted me in this very spot? I wondered. Was it something I did? Something I said? Nothing made sense. One minute I was threatening to cut off his dick, the next he was devouring my mouth like I starved man seeking air. And it was marvelous, and hot. The small, timid kisses that I gave with my inexperienced, trembling lips left me in a state of bewilderment. Where did this surge of need come from? I hated King. He was a bastard on a good day. I wanted nothing to do with him, but I wasn’t stopping him either.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
His hands threaded through my hair, cradling my head as his mouth moved, tenderly kissing my forehead, my cheeks, my eyelids, moving back to my mouth, sipping lightly. And the worst part… I was kissing him back!
My hands had a mind of their own. My body betrayed me as my hands rested on his chest for balance as he pulled me towards him. He drew a shuddering breath, kissed my temple and half-breathed into my hair, “Oh, Bailey. What are you doing to me?”
He moved his mouth back to mine and renewed his gentle assault.
“This doesn’t mean anything, King,” I gasped, between nibbles. “We hate each other. You drive me crazy.”
