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Interesting.
I took in the pretty peaches pressing against her top. Maybe not peaches. They were a good handful each, but I had big hands. She wore a camisole—I think they’re called that—matched the color of her eyes and at that second a dangerous thought entered my head.
“You not with anyone?”
“As in did I sleep alone? Yes. Did I come with someone? Just a couple of girlfriends who have different ideas than I do about a good time.”
Her pretty eyes roamed over every inch of me and then two other girls I presumed to be her friends. They were definitely naked.
But nother.
Shit. I bet if I were to take a good lungful of air, I’d even smell her virginity. She sure as shit looked it with those wide, curious eyes drinking me in.
I made an obvious try at pushing my hard cock to where the teeth of my zipper didn’t dig into the flesh, but I failed.
“Sorry to have woken you, angel,” I say again, like it will push me out the door and away from temptation.
I needed to leave. I couldn’t start thinking about her in the ways my brain wanted to. Any kind of distraction was deadly in my life.
She dragged her eyes from my hard shaft, drawing a lip between her teeth in the process. “You didn’t wake me. I was just lying here with my eyes closed before I got up and started cleaning.”
My throat seized. “You staying on as club candy?” I asked gruffly. Why I wanted to put my fist through a wall at that idea scared me more than a gun to my head.
Nodding, she glanced over my body again, and I couldn’t help but hope she liked what she saw. I kept in shape, muscled, big—all over. Hell, if I fucked her, I’d be afraid I’d tear the sweet little curvy thing in half.
But that idea didn’t have me shutting up and moving toward the door like it should have. “What’s your name?” I heard myself say like some idiot who didn’t know when to just fucking walk away from a bad idea.
“Januari.” She spelled it out for me as if it would matter. But as I stood there looking down on her, I realized it did matter. Januari spelled with an I not a Y. The other way would make her a different person, and I didn’t want to know a different version of Januari.
The grandfather clock Midnight pushed on me for my thirty-eight birthday a couple of months back chimed from the upstairs hallway. I glanced at my watch. “Shit, angel. I’ve gotta go.” I stepped over her and reached for the door.
“You’re Drake, aren’t you?” Her words made me turn.
“Who told you?”
“Everyone knows your name. The man nobody wants to fuck with, right? That’s you?”
I stared at her sleep-tossed hair, blue eyes, and then her little pouty lips, thinking how wrong and how sexy it was that such a dirty word had come out of it.
“It’s Blade to everyone else, but I like you knowing my real name.” I paused. I’m no good for this girl. She still had a chance to meet the right man who can give her the right kind of life. Babies. A cute minivan and a soccer mom's life.
My gut riots against someone else claiming her and putting their seed in her womb, but I force myself to get a grip on reality.
“Take their advice, angel. I’m no good.” With that, I walked out of the club, fighting the urge to look back and see how my words affected her.
If she was smart, she’d heed them. Stay away. I was all kinds of fucking wrong for a girl like her.
CHAPTERTHREE
JANUARI
Drake ‘Blade’ Reed.
Hushed whispers among the girls have people believing he was an arms dealer amongst other things. Drugs, prostitutes, gambling. I never enjoyed listening to gossip, but every story I’ve heard since hitting this small Tennessee town painted him as the villain. There were a lot of stories among the girls that put fear into my bones, but the second our eyes connected I forgot Drake was the bad guy.
Tall. Muscles for miles and eyes so dark I could see the blue of my eyes stare back at me like a mirror.
And he was an unwanted distraction.
