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He rocked back, jarred. Cognitive dissonance jangled in his head. That event had nothing to do with the person he thought he was. A good fighter, yes, but he approached martial arts more as a sport than anything else. He wasn’t dangerous. He was the class clown, the smart-ass, the charmer who would do anything for a laugh. Not a killer.
But those guys were dead. He could call it self defense, but he hadn’t been thinking self defense. He hadn’t thought at all.
He’d just killed. So easily. Smoothly. Like he was used to it.
He stared at her lips, her tangle of glossy hair. He tended to distract himself from uncomfortable feelings as quickly and forcibly as possible. Sex was an awesome distraction.
He tried to look harmless. “I’m not dangerous to you,” he told her.
“Bullshit,” she whispered. “You could destroy me.”
He winced. “Oh, fuck. Stop being so apocalyptic. It bugs me.”
She giggled, which he took as a good sign. “Can you blame me?”
He thudded down, off the seat, onto the floor. So. Didn’t look like he was going to score. Not unless he forced the issue, which would make the disconnect complete. The old Bruno, the new Bruno. The Bruno who could slaughter three guys was hard enough to integrate with his self-image. A Bruno who forced a woman into sex…nah.
God, it was hard, though. He shoved Lily’s knees together, hard, and dropped his head down to the tops of her thighs, pressing his hot cheek against the grubby coat. The tryst in Tony’s apartment played in his head. Every hot, silken clutch of her pussy around his aching prong, burned forever into his memory. He ground his fists against his eyes until kaleidoscopic sparks swirled and spun in his inner vision.
Red like blood. Spattering Lily’s coat. Trickling out of the mouth of the guy on the ground. Oozing from the crushed skull of the other man.
So familiar. Fighting like a robot. Losing control, being taken over. Like his Rudy dreams. Except that the opponents had been real this time, and could die. Had died. Broken and bleeding.
Lily’s hands came to rest on his head. She bent over and laid her face against the back of his head. The hot rhythm of her breath had transformed his scalp into an erogenous zone. He endured it, in a stake of razor-edged sensual overload. Pure heavenly bliss. Fucking torture.
Click.They jerked apart as the door slid open. Aaro stuck his head in. “I saw that,” he growled.
“Saw what?” Bruno asked, defensive.
Aaro tossed assorted shopping bags into the van. “You owe me three hundred and ninety bucks so far.” He held out a paper food bag.
Bruno took it. “Oh. Ah, thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. No favors means no thanks.”
“Yeah, right,” Bruno dug for the coffee.
“I thought you should get some caffeine and sugar into her before her blood pressure went south.” Aaro looked Lily over. “But she’s glowing. Looks like you’ve successfully regulated her blood pressure in other, more pleasurable ways.”
“Shut up, Aaro,” Bruno growled.
“Just get this straight, loverboy. No boinking in my van.”
“Fuck off.” Lily’s voice rang out. “We didn’t do anything.”
“That would explain why his head was in your lap.” Aaro reached into the bag, fished out coffee, and held it out. “Enjoy. You’re welcome.”
She stared at him for a moment. “I don’t have to thank you, remember?” she said. “You’re not doing me any favors.”
“True. I’m so crushed. Now drink some coffee, dollface.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you just call medollface?”
“No.” Bruno snatched the cup out of Aaro’s hand and passed it to her. “It was an aural hallucination. Have your breakfast sandwich.”
“Yeah, ignore me.” Aaro pawed through the bags until he found a one with stenciled hearts on it. “By the way, you never did tell me your size. Hope nothing binds or pinches your tender pink places, babe.”
He let the bag fly. It landed on Lily’s lap. She shrank back as if it were a venomous snake. It hit the floor. Fuck-me-please panties spilled out. A tangle of satin, lace and silk. Red, black, peach, flesh-tone.
