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“Don’t insult me,” she scoffed, lifting her chin.
“How’d you get the black eye?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“That’s not news. Now what happened? Boyfriend? Cat fight?” I took another drag, and she held her breath. Another possibility came to mind. “Did you do that to yourself, sugar? Have somebody hit you on purpose?”
Her hand lifted to smack the shit out of me, but I caught her wrist. “Fucker.”
“I’m more than willing to show you just how much of one I am.” My rapidly thickening dick was fully on board and seemingly in control. Ishouldhave been worried Mrs. Quinn was watching this entire exchange on the cameras. Ishould’veconsidered being so close to this woman could cut short my time here, having consequences I didn’t want to face. Instead, I wanted to find out what theoh-so-eager-to-knee-me-in-the-ballswoman would do next.
She shoved at me, but it was useless. I was too strong, though she was no lightweight. There was more to this woman than met the eye, and I wanted to find out what it was. That was an enigma in and of itself. I didn’t give a fuck what anybody was about. There could only be a single number one, and I was most definitely it.
“Well,sugar,” she said venomously, making me smile. “I wish I could say it’s been nice knowing you, but I wouldn’t want to start lying now.”
“Because you’re a pillar of truth?”
The edge of her lip turned up ever so slightly. “Hope you can find somewhere else to serve your sentence. You’re out of here,” she threatened, and I shrugged indifferently.
“What makes you so sure I’m not here out of the goodness of my heart?Volunteering?”
She snorted. “You’re not.”
So what if she saw through me. “If I go, you go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said matter-of-factly, nostrils flaring. Now that surprised me. She wasn’t terrified of me . . . and shouldn’t she be? At a woman’s shelter? I wouldn’t allow her any power over me, though.
“Don’t think you can be that confident, sugar. I doubt any of the other women inside would be as calm as you are right now. Maybe you’re the one who shouldn’t be here.”
She laughed in my face, but I knew that laugh—contrived, purposeful, and without mirth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said harshly, the laughter dying instantly. “Now let me go.”
“You sure that’s what you want, my little tigress?”
When she shoved again, I stepped back, unblocking her path. She looked momentarily stunned but collected herself as if nothing had happened. Her face got to within an inch of mine. “I’m not your little anything, jackass.”
She and the mutt disappeared inside, and I chuckled, taking one last drag before tossing the butt on the ground and stomping it out. Maybe this “punishment” wasn’t so bad. There was no way I was going anywhere as long as that vixen was around. In her presence, I was more engaged than I had been with anyone in years. I didn’t even like her, but something about her sparked my interest. And that head of curls . . . I could almost feel my fingers tangled up in them while I fucked her senseless. They were already wild, but I’d make them untamed while she was at my mercy.
I had other shit to worry about besides getting more pussy, but Iwantedhers. She didn’t just spread her legs. It was why I’d gone after sweet Holly all those years ago, to see if I could get a woman like her under me. One who wasn’t throwing herself at me to see what I would give her.
I patted the back pocket of my slacks a couple of times. Son of a bitch.
The tigress had lifted my wallet.
Chapter Eight
Sonya
He was a Valentine baby?
I stared at the date of birth on Drew Harris Carter’s Texas driver’s license. Wasn’t that supposed to be the day of love? There wasn’t a speck of goodness in that man.
Yet there was something about him I was drawn to. Was that why I had “Something About You” by Hayden James playing?
I tapped the edge of the plastic with my manicured nail. He was bad. Rotten. Exactly someone I’d try to use. It had been too easy to swipe his wallet. As we’d sparred, I’d expected better from him. Why it bothered me that I’d gotten away with it, I didn’t know, but disappointment niggled at the back of my brain.
He was infuriating. A pig. Rude. Brutal.
I glanced at the license again. Who the hell actually had a decent photograph on one of these things? Drew Harris Carter did, that was who. Yet another reason to hate him.
