Page 25 of Riot

“Not ones as pretty as you.”

I give him a skeptical look. “I’ve seen the girls who hang around the club; sweet butts, right? They’re very pretty.”

“I like a certain type of woman.” Jesus. His words thrill me, especially when his eyes darken a little more.

“So you have a type, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And tell me, Riot, what type do you have, exactly?”

He takes a step forward, stepping into my space. I smell his woody, masculine scent of pine and citrus wash over me. It’s heady and intoxicating and makes my heart race.

“I like…”

I cock a brow. “Cat got your tongue? You won’t offend me. I’m fully aware of my size.”

“You know, if you were mine, I’d put you over my knee for sayin’ that twice in the space of a few minutes.”

Put me over his knee? Holy Hannah. That alone sets my insides blazing.

“I’m just stating the obvious.”

“That you’re curvy and I find curves extremely sexy?” My heart rises in my chest at his words. “That I like a woman with big tits and hips and a decent ass?”

I swallow hard. “You… you do?”

He makes this sound in the back of his throat that could almost coax me to orgasm. Like a low growl. It’s so sexy. “Yes. I do. And you know what else turns me on? Confidence.”

“I’m not sure I have much of that,” I admit sheepishly.

He shakes his head. “When you walked into the bar that night with Star, you had confidence drippin’ off you, babe. That’s what I find hot. And you’ve got a brain to boot, ain’t nothin’ sexier than a chick with attitude, ass and intelligence.”

“Maybe I’m faking the intelligence part?”

He snickers. “Doubt it. Not if you work with Star.”

“Good point.” I try not to let my breathing hitch, but that’s becoming increasingly difficult. “She wouldn’t accept a dummy as her right-hand woman.”

His words are soft and low. “No, she wouldn’t.”

Our heads move closer and I feel that surge. The rush. All of the adrenaline and pent-up emotion these last few months trying to help Star come to the surface. I’m a furnace who can’t keep a lid on the overflowing pot. I need a release…

“Halo?” Star yells as I hear her heels on the stairs.

Riot and I spring apart and I feel the heat rising up my neck. “Shit,” I mutter at the same time he says, “Fuck.”

He not-so-subtly adjusts his bulge and my eyes go wide, but then Star’s at the door, looking at me with a little annoyance. “What are you two doing up here? We’re hungry already.”

“Uh, Riot was just helping with the suitcases.” I wave my arm in the general direction of my bed and Star glances suspiciously at Riot. Well, at least it wasn’t a few seconds later, she might have found us in a more compromising position.

“Well, I’d love to leave you two lovebirds alone, but Nevada says we have to all stick together.”

“Who died and made him Prez?” Riot mutters.

Star turns to Riot. “Fight it out amongst yourselves. I need some pie, apparently they make Mississippi mud next door.” She takes off and I grab my purse and try to hide my smile. All that pie talk just brings me back to those illicit thoughts about me and Riot doing bad things to each other while I try to cook.

Riot is chuckling too. “Need my pie too, and soon.”

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