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“Could you shut up for ten seconds?” Adam asks, pushing to his feet while I do the same.
“I didn’t fuck her, man,” John says. “I worked for her father.”
“Where is her father?” I ask. “I need to speak to him.”
“Deployed,” he replies, “which is in your best interest. You’re free. You’re out. Get the hell out of my face before I punch you for her.” He leaves the door open and walks away. “Both your cars were impounded,” he calls over his shoulder.
Adam and I share a look. “Did we call Blake and I don’t know it?” I ask.
“We did not,” he says. “Which lends to the question: who got us out?”
Tag, I think. Tag got us out because Tag wants me to do his dirty work.
A few minutes later, we have our personal items back on our persons and Adam calls for an Uber. “I’m at the same hotel as you,” he says. “Surprise.”
“Just what I need,” I reply dryly. “A pain in my ass right next door.”
“I, am, in fact, right next door,” he assures me.
“Fan-fucking-tabulous. The only thing I’d like better is a bottle of pickle juice waiting for me on ice in my room. Then my life would be made.”
“Figures,” he says. “You are a sour puss and all.”
“Better than a pussy, which I am not.”
“Maybe if you were just this once,” he suggests dryly, “we wouldn’t be leaving jail right now.”
“Whatever.”
We exit into what is now the ten o’clock hour and there’s not a breeze in sight. It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s fucking Texas calling me a little bitch. We cut left to the parking lot and that’s when I spy Candace, standing in the parking lot beside her car. “Maybe Tag didn’t get us out after all.”
“I didn’t know that we thought he did,” Adam replies. “But I’m taking it the pretty brunette is your love?”
“She damn sure isn’t yours,” I snap. “And since yeah, she obviously got us out to see me, show your appreciation by getting lost. I’ll catch my own Uber.”
“We still haven’t talked about Tag.”
“Buzz off,” I say, breaking away from him and striding toward Candace, who doesn’t move. She just hugs the hell out of herself the way I want her to hug me. Now. I want her to hug me now.
My steps widen, quicken, and I don’t stop until I’m in front of her. I do, however, intend to stop there, but her sweet floral perfume, so damn familiar and addictive, undoes the fuck out of me. So does her backing up like she’s scared of me.
I catch her arm and then step all the fucking way into her, my fingers diving into all that silky hair, my mouth capturing her mouth. She gasps, her hand on my chest where she clearly intends to push, but that doesn’t happen. My tongue strokes deep, caressing against hers, her soft body hard with resistance for about ten seconds. A soft moan slides from her lips, one part frustration, another part something raw and hungry. And then she’s kissing me back, her fingers curling into my shoulders, body arching against mine. My hand slides between her shoulder blades, molding her close, holding onto her and she holds onto me, too. It’s like coming home, like part of me has been missing, like every hole I’ve filled with the wrong women and too much booze is now filled with her.
A siren sounds, and that’s how this ends, at least for now. Candace shoves back from me. “Stop. Stop right now.”
Damn it, I can’t ignore her telling me to stop. I know this, but I can’t let her go again. “Come back to my room with me. Let’s talk.”
“Like you just talked?”
“We, baby. That wasn’t just me.”
She shoves her finger with a rock the size of Texas on it between us. “I’m engaged to another man. We have nothing to talk about.”
“You didn’t kiss me like you were engaged to another man. You kissed me like you wished he was me.”
She starts shoving against me. “Go. Leave. Get back.”
My jaw clenches and I step back. “Did he find that little sweet spot of yours? Because I’m better, or you wouldn’t have just kissed the fuck out of me.”
She points at me, her cheeks rosy, her hand trembling. “You don’t get to come back here and talk to me like that. Ten years, Savage.”
“Eight, and it’s Rick to you.”
“I came here for one reason. To tell you to stay away forever this time.” She walks around the car toward the driver’s side door. I want to pull her back. Fuck. I want to throw her over my shoulder, tie her up, and force her to go to my room.
I pursue her and when her door is open and she’s about to climb in the car, I am right there in front of her. “I’m not going anywhere but to my hotel room, alone, where I will think of your mouth on my mouth and my mouth on your body. I’ll also be contemplating how many ways I can get rid of the asshole who put that rock on your finger.” I turn and start walking away.
