Page 37 of Ugly (Cerberus MC)


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I bend in the middle, watching her face in the darkness until she rolls her window down.

“I thought that was you.”

“I could’ve been anyone,” she mutters.

“Your car needs a tune up. I heard the same click when you started it that day we went to the gas station to get the video.”

She still hasn’t turned her face to look at me. I’m guessing by the repeated clench of her jaw that she’s either mad or jealous. God, let it be the latter because that’s something I can use.

My cock takes notice of her sullen demeanor, and I struggle with making it known that the way she’s acting right now is activating that part of me that wants to show her who’s in control or walking away. Because getting any further tangled up with this woman probably won’t end well for either of us.

Instead of saying anything, I walk around to the passenger side and climb inside. She remains silent which I see as a win because I fully expected her to insist that I get out.

“Take me back,” I insist, my voice low and demanding.

Only now does she turn her face in my direction, somehow still managing to avoid eye contact.

“To the clubhouse?”

“To the hotel,” I clarify.

She drives to the end of the cul-de-sac and heads out of Rochelle’s neighborhood without another word, but when we get to the hotel, she doesn’t make a move to climb out of the car.

I head inside and grab a room, wondering if I read the entire situation wrong.

Chapter 17

Lennox

The pounding of my heart has more to do with memories than fear. I know what happens if I go inside, and nearly every part of my body is urging me out of the car. It’s that almost primal need that has me frozen in place. What kind of man doesn’t hold a grudge after being arrested in front of his entire team and their families? What would his retaliation look like on my body?

I don’t think he’d hurt me. At least not in a way I wouldn’t like.

The thrill of anticipation forces goose pimples to streak down my arms.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, I climb out of my car, telling myself that I’m going to tell him off and remind him that I make my own decisions. It’s the middle of the damn night. I should be sleeping, not heading into a hotel to meet a man I once put handcuffs on.

I bypass the front desk clerk and climb onto the elevator. That sixth sense, the same one telling me I’m not wrong about my sister, is also telling me that the man managed to get the very same room from last time. If I knock on the door and he isn’t in there, then I’ll just leave.

After stepping off the elevator, I haven’t fully made up my mind which way I want it to go. No one answering the door would probably be best because spending another night with Sawyer Maddox is a complication I don’t need in my life.

The door opens, a hand clasping around the wrist raised to knock before my knuckles can even meet the wood.

I wish I could say my first instinct is to yell at him, to tell him he’s got a lot of nerve pulling me inside this damn room the way he does, but the second the door is closed with me inside, a switch is flipped inside of me.

It wasn’t until that first night with this man that I discovered exactly what I’d been missing my whole adult, sexually active life.

“Took you long enough,” he says in my ear.

He has one arm wrapped around my waist, holding me close against his body, and the other is loosely at my throat. I swallow against his palm, feeling his lips turn up into a smile on my cheek.

He hasn’t forbidden me yet, so I run my hand up his sides, relishing in the minuscule power I must have over him when his muscles jump and flex against my fingertips.

I open my mouth to whisper his name when the scratch of his five-o’clock shadow scrapes down my neck, but I immediately clamp my lips closed. This isn’t how I operate, hooking up with someone I know. Having people in your life means you can lose them, and I’m not capable of losing someone else.

“Get out of your head,” he commands, his fingers tangled in my hair as he forces my head back so he can look into my eyes.

“Make me,” I taunt.

I know we’re both going to get exactly what we need from the other when a slow, devious smile tugs up the corners of his mouth.

“Unzip me.”

I fumble with his zipper, my overeager fingers not working for me exactly like I need them to.

Sawyer takes a step back, his chin tucked into his chest as he watches my hands work open the button and zipper on his jeans.

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