Page 156 of Chaos Kills

My focus immediately scans the room before I see someone lying on the floor behind her near the door I just waltzed in through.

Sandy blonde hair, on his back, sprawled out and high as fuck.

“I hit him.”

My eyes skate back to her, and I can’t help but think it was for a good reason. With the destructive way he’s been going on about shit and how hurt he is from Bay marrying Oz, I’m sure he was popping off at the mouth.

“He’s fine,” I deadpan.

She slowly rocks her head back and forth, and the innocence of it, the calm she exudes after this situation, has me reaching up to gently cup her chin between my thumb and index finger.

“How long?” I ask, examining the deep scratches and redness around her neck.

“How long, what?”

“Were you fighting him?”

“I dunno. He ran at me.”

I oughta throw a few more bullets—this time at his head—but I don’t hear him anymore, so I believe that time has passed.

“Good thing you know how to fight,” I mutter. “Otherwise, I may have come too late.”

“You came just in time.”

I glance up at her, finding her still staring back at me, and my cock twitches at those plush fucking lips and how hypnotizing those blue eyes are. “You’re trouble, Little T.”

“Isn’t that what my nickname is for?”

“Mhm.” I run the pad of my thumb across one of the scratch marks and feel Bay flinch for the first time. “Hurt?”

She bobs her head a bit, and I don’t know what the hell comes over me.

I must’ve gotten my wires crossed somewhere back when I was talking to Luisa because I’m bending forward and locking my lips around her throat as I lick away Victor’s touch and hold.

Bay gasps a little. This sweet and tiny sound that rocks my fucking body into rigid and fluid all in one swoop.

Her skin is warm. The smell of sweat and something sugary evades my senses as my lips lap over her flesh again. But she doesn’t move, and this isn’t normal for us.

In fact, it’s the furthest from the norm when both of us keep each other at arm’s length at all fucking times.

Pulling away, Bay’s fingers lace through my hair, only allowing me a bit of space as our faces align with each other.

“What are you doing, Sinatra? If I hadn’t lost so much oxygen, I’d say you just kissed me.”

“Just easing the pain, Little T.”

Her hold on my hair tightens just a bit when she whispers, “Who told you to stop?”

The sound of her voice—sweet and, oh, not-so-fucking-innocent—makes my dick hard as fuck. The way it brushed up against my lips, makes me want to smash mine violently to hers and call this shit a day.

“You did,” I manage to get out. “By how shell-shocked I just made you.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

Still…

“I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night,” I divulge, trying to supress the moment. “Wallace is gonna kill me for those marks.”

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